


Of Lost Equipment, Mislaid Personal Items and Lunch

by katieelizabeth



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Friendship, M/M, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-05-18 13:06:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5929504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katieelizabeth/pseuds/katieelizabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Q repeatedly laments 007's forgetfulness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Was Hoping I'd Lost It Completely

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at writing 00Q. Please read and leave a comment or kudos. I have more chapters written which I will upload if you like this one.  
> Unfortunately I do not own James Bond or Q or any recognisable characters in this story.  
> Oh and it's completely unbetaed so all mistakes are mine.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It begins with a bulldog.

He saw 007 for the first time after the Silva debacle, three days after M’s funeral.

Q was busy building yet more firewalls around their computer systems; his aim was to make sure that no one could hack into them again.  He’d been working on it all day and it was slow going, the algorithms on his screen were blurring together thanks to his tired eyes.  Suddenly the room went unnaturally quiet, not that it was ever loud per se, Q wouldn’t be able to tolerate that, but there was usually quiet chatter at least, not to mention the continuous clacking of fingers on keyboards.  But while there was a definite increase in work noise, keyboards and paper shuffling, the usual chat was absent. 

Frowning, Q looked up to see 007 prowling across the room, seemingly oblivious to the fact that everyone else was studiously ignoring his presence and trying their level best to look extremely busy.  It wasn’t unusual, all of them were absolutely terrified of the Double Oh’s and the regular agents, but mostly the Double Oh’s.  “007?” he said swiftly, eying the box and mission brief he was carrying.  “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Q.” the double oh smirked, stopping by his desk.  “I have something of yours.” the man paused and set down his things before delving into his coat pocket and pulling out the radio transmitter Q had given him for his last mission.  “I would’ve returned it before but things got a little out of hand.”

He rolled his eyes but took the small black device, shooting the rest of his team sharp glances, which had the desired effect as everyone got back to work, fingers flying over keyboards once again, though all of them were still too terrified to speak.  “And what of the gun?”

“Lost it to a Komodo dragon.”

“Really?” he asked sceptically.

“Really.  Ask Miss Moneypenny if you don’t believe me.”

Q hummed, looking back at the file.  “I hear you’re being sent out, Buenos Aires isn’t it?”

“Yes, in two days’ time.”

“I expect you’ll need new equipment then.”

Bond arched an eyebrow.  “If you would be so kind, Quartermaster.”

“It’ll be ready tomorrow lunchtime, drop by then.”

He’d fully expected the agent to leave then, but instead he leant easily against the bench in front of him, folding his arms across his chest.

“Was there anything else?”

Bond shook his head.

 “Right.” Q hummed, eyes flitting to the box sitting beneath the mission brief.  “Someone sending you gifts, 007?” 

The other man looked confused for a second before following Q’s gaze; he knocked the file aside and picked up the box.  “Hardly, M’s will was read today.” he pulled off the lid and held it up so Q could see it.

He only just managed to keep himself from pulling a face when he saw the bulldog nestled between the tissue paper.  “How lovely.”

“No it isn’t.”

“No, you’re right, it isn’t.” Q agreed, wrinkling his nose.

007 replaced the lid and returned the box to the bench, before slouching back into his casual stance.  Slowly, the noise level rose to normal again.  Q got back to his laptop, focussing once again on the codes that filled the screen.  He was dimly aware of Bond’s presence and the feeling of those icy blue eyes on him but he ignored it.  He wasn’t sure how long the agent stayed for but by the time he looked up again, his neck had gone stiff and 007 was nowhere to be seen, though the box containing the ugly bulldog was still there, sitting between someone’s mug and someone else’s budget report.

Q sighed and rounded the bench, picking it up and easing the lid off as Bond had done, frowning down at the china dog with a Union Jack wrapped around it.  He wondered, as he replaced the lid and took it into his office for safe keeping, if 007 had left it behind deliberately.  Not that Q blamed him, it really was horrible. 

* * *

 He was firmly ensconced in his office, elbow deep in Q-Branch budget reports and receipts, endless receipts, when 007 turned up the following day.  Once again the lack of talking outside alerted him to the agent’s presence.

With a sigh, Q abandoned the receipts and headed towards the door that linked his office and the main comms room, rolling his eyes as he watched Bond strutting across the deathly silent room, with a dangerous looking smirk on his face.  As he drew closer, one of the interns accidently caught his eye and promptly spilled his coffee all over his work bench. 

Q rolled his eyes.  “007, if you could stop scaring my workforce half to death that would be lovely.”

“I’m not scaring them.” he grinned and shot a rakish wink towards the nearest intern, who blushed bright red and dropped the files she was carrying. 

“Yes you are.  I have your equipment in here…” he said, jerking his head back towards his office, retreating back inside so Bond could stride in.  “…we’re still waiting for your tickets and passport.  Massive cock-up with the finance department, don’t ask.  They’re being biked over as we speak, hopefully they won’t take long.” Q paused, heading over to his desk and retrieving the black case containing 007’s new gun and radio, his eyes catching sight of the other black box as he straightened up.   Picking it up, he held it out to the agent.  “You left this behind yesterday.”

Bond grimaced.  “That’s where it went.  I was hoping I’d lost it completely.”

Tutting, Q shook his head.  “I hope you’ll take better care of your equipment, 007.”

Bond smirked.  “Oh I can assure you my _equipment_ is well cared for.  In fact, I have it serviced regularly.” his lips quirked up further as he spoke.

Huffing, he thrust the rectangular case at him.  “Your Walther.  It’s got the same micro-dermal sensors in the grip.  Nothing new I’m afraid; time has been rather short of late.”

“No exploding pen then?”

Q ignored him.  “Your radio transmitter is in there too.  Please don’t feed either item to any Komodo Dragons while you’re away.”

“I hardly fed the gun to it.  The thing just ate it, along with the man who was trying to shoot me with it actually, so perhaps I should send it a thank you gift.”

“Well as long as it’s not your new gun, 007.” just then there was a knock on the door.  “Yes.” Q called, pushing his glasses further up his nose.

The door opened and Chelsea, one of his newest interns stepped just inside the office, shooting Bond a fearful glance.  “Um…sir, 007’s passport and tickets just arrived.”

“Thank you, Chelsea.” he replied, watching her expectantly as she hovered awkwardly in the doorway, her eyes still sliding warily to Bond.  Quite what she expected the agent to do, Q didn’t know.  “Well don’t just stand there, bring them in.”

“Right.  Yes.  I’m sorry, sir.” she muttered, scurrying forwards and all but throwing the envelope at him before turning and leaving the room as fast as she’d entered it.

Q sighed loudly, handing the envelope to Bond who was still smirking.  “No need to look so smug, 007, she’s like that with every agent, even the ones who aren’t Double Oh’s.  The interns even get a bit jumpy around Tanner.”

Bond snorted derisively, tucking the envelope into his jacket pocket.  “Tanner’s a pussycat.”

“Quite.  Well, I think that’s everything, sign this.” he held out a clipboard and watched as the other man scrawled his signature in the small box.  “Please bring the equipment back in one piece.”

“I’ll try, Q.”

“Why does that not reassure me?”

Bond grinned at that and left, taking all of his things with his this time.

Q shook his head; pushing his glasses up onto his forehead he rubbed his eyes roughly before replacing them and eyeing the stack of receipts unenthusiastically.  If he was going to delve back in paperwork hell, he was going to need tea and chocolate.  With that in mind, he pulled his mug out of his desk drawer and went in search of his special blend of Earl Grey.


	2. How The Hell Did You Manage That?  You Didn’t Even Use It!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Next comes food, tea and a lost coat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first attempt at writing 00Q. Please read and leave a comment or kudos. I have more chapters written which I will upload if you like this one.  
> Unfortunately I do not own James Bond or Q or any recognisable characters in this story.  
> Oh and it's completely unbetaed so all mistakes are mine.

Q hated incident reports, probably even more than he hated budget reports.

Everyone else had gone home almost two hours ago, not even the night staff were in since 007 and 003 had completed their assignments the day before and all other agents were home, which was an unusual occurrence.  He was stuck slogging through three reports, two were about the small explosions that had occurred when they’d been testing his new prototype and the other was about the accidental shooting of a new intern who’d wandered into the shooting range by mistake, it was also well overdue, so he was struggling to remember exactly what had happened.

Sighing, he yanked off his glasses and dropped them beside his mug, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes.  It’d been a busy week, handling 003’s and 007’s missions, practically back to back.  Both had been a success and he was, probably unwisely, optimistic about getting his equipment back, especially since 007 hadn’t even used his.  007’s flight had landed a few hours before while 003 was still in the air, somewhere over Nigeria probably. 

Replacing his glasses, he looked back at the reports, the words blurring together.  His eyes felt dry, like he needed to pluck them out and bathe them in water, he really wanted to go home but the reports needed finishing.  He took an absentminded sip from his mug and winced when he realised his tea had gone cold, he was just contemplating the merits of venturing into the small kitchenette to make more when hid office door was pushed open and 007 swanned right in, bringing with him the smell of baked potato and coffee. 

“I thought you went home after your debrief with M.” he frowned, eyes darting between the polystyrene food container and two takeaway cups he was carrying.

“Why does it smell like sulphur and gunpowder down here?”

Q eyed him suspiciously as he stepped forward and set down the food container and one of the takeaway cups on the desk in front of him.  “Slight problem with my new prototype.  Why are you here and why have you bought me food and how the hell did you even know I was down here?”

“George on the security desk told me that you hadn’t gone home yet and I thought that you might not have had any dinner.”

“Ok, that explains the food and how you knew _I_ was here but not why _you’re_ here.”  

“What’s wrong with paying my favourite Quartermaster a visit?”

Q stared at him flatly.  “It’s almost one o’clock in the morning.”

The other man made a show of pulling up the sleeve of his, no doubt expensive, cashmere jumper and peering at his watch.  “So it is.”

“So perhaps you should explain exactly why you are here, with a jacket potato and coffee at this hour.”

“I thought we’d covered the food issue, Q.”

He rolled his eyes.  “Answer the question, 007.”

“Perhaps I’m just trying to be nice.”

He snorted inelegantly.  “Right and how often are Double Oh’s nice for no good reason?”

“You wound me, Q.  Can a Double Oh not bring his Quartermaster tea without some kind of ulterior motive?”

“No.  So why not save us both some time and tell me what you’ve done.” he paused, tilting his head to one side, his eyebrows raised as he waited for Bond’s answer.

The agent sighed.  “Fine, I may have mislaid my equipment.”

Q stared, the words not quite sinking in.  “Mislaid it?  How the hell did you manage that?  You didn’t even use it.”

“I have no idea.  One minute it was there, the next it was gone.”

He wanted to be angry.  He wanted to threaten him with a water pistol the next time he went out but he was far too tired.  So instead he sighed loudly, shaking his head.  “Only you 007, only you could lose equipment you didn’t even use.”

“What can I say; it must be a special talent.”

Q rolled his eyes and pulled the takeaway cup towards him.  “If I’m going to drink this, I’m going to have to rinse out my mug.  If you’ll excuse me.” he left the room, taking his mug with him.

He knew he’d been foolish to feel so optimistic.  007’s reputation preceded him, he should’ve expected it.  Q’s predecessor had documented his rampant carelessness with tech extensively, he was well known for it.  Most of the other agents, even the other Double Oh’s, bought something back, even if it was just a couple of broken pieces but not 007.  He’d once misplaced an eight hundred thousand pound prototype Aston Martin with fifty thousand pounds worth of extra tech on board, for god sake.

Sighing, Q rinsed his mug and dried it carefully before returning to his office.  In his absence, Bond had made himself comfortable, his coat was off and draped over the back of the chair he’d settled himself in and he was sipping from his takeaway cup.

“You didn’t answer my first question, why are you here?” Q asked, rounding his desk before decanting his tea from the stupid paper cup into his mug.

Bond surveyed him over the rim of his own cup.  “I could ask you the same question.  You’re the only one in the building, Q.”

“No I’m not.  You’re here, unfortunately.” he retorted, taking a mouthful of tea.  It wasn’t his usual blend but it was better than nothing.  “I know for a fact that M sent you home after your debrief, so why are you back?”

Bond shrugged, dropping his eyes to his drink.  “Couldn’t sleep.  Your turn.”

Q raised his eyebrows, surprised that the agent was admitting something like that.  He wondered, as his flipped open the food container and picked out the plastic fork, if the famous 007 was there because he wanted company.  He knew that the loss of M had hit Bond hard and he was definitely still dealing with everything that had happened at Skyfall.  Still, it was rare for Double Oh’s to admit they were having problems with something.  Q chose not to comment, instead he nodded slowly.  “I’m working.  Sadly incident reports don’t write themselves.” he replied, pulling open the skin to get to the cheese and potato inside before attacking it with gusto.  

Bond pulled a face.  “Incident reports?  Can’t they wait until tomorrow?”

He swallowed his mouthful of potato and cheese and shook his head.  “No, not when I was summoned to M’s office this afternoon for a major bollocking in front of Eve _and_ Tanner.  Apparently incident reports need to be submitted on the actual day of the incident, not over a week later.”  Bond watched him, looking mildly amused as he ranted, waving his plastic fork around as he spoke.  “As if I don’t have enough to do keeping you idiotic Double Oh’s safe without doing paperwork too.  And you know, I’d have a lot less to do if _you_ actually bought back your sodding equipment!”

“I didn’t lose it on purpose.”

“I never said you did, 007.” he said flippantly.

Neither of them spoke for a long moment, Q was too busy with his food and tea while Bond sat quietly drinking from his cup and watching him.  Q could feel his eyes on him but he ignored it in favour of eating his jacket potato as elegantly as he could manage.

“What was the problem?” Bond asked when Q had finished eating.

Q looked up.  “What?”

“With your prototype?”

“Oh…” he looked down, closing the container and pushing it away before picking up his tea.  “…I’m working on a pair of exploding cufflinks and I’m having trouble stabilising them.  Unfortunately they have a tendency to detonate at the slightest knock, which is not ideal especially since it resulted in two unplanned explosions, hence the incident reports.”

Bond hummed.  “No, not ideal.  Still, I hope you’ll let me test them in the field, when they’re ready of course.”

“That depends on whether or not you can guarantee that you won’t _misplace_ them, 007.” he paused and smiled blandly.  “Anyway, I’d better get back to work.  I’d invite you to stay but I suspect you were already intending to do so.”

Bond grinned and settled back in his chair.  “You know me so well, Q.”

It took Q an hour finish the reports and save them to his private area ready to print in the morning, for reasons Q didn’t understand M preferred having hard copies of everything, no matter how many times Q tried to convince him that digital was the future.  For the whole hour Bond sat silently opposite him, fiddling with the Sudokube he kept on his desk.  Q ignored him for the most part, only sneaking quick glances when he was between sentences.  When he announced he’d finished, the agent stood up and stretched before hovering by the door as Q closed down his laptop, locked it away and gathered his things.  He continued to hover while Q turned off all the lights and made sure his office door locked behind him.

“Lift?” Bond asked when they left the comms room.

Q turned, his brow furrowed as he slung his satchel across his body.  “I’m sorry.”

“Would you like a lift home?” the other man clarified, pulling a key fob out of his trouser pocket.

“Oh.  Um…no, thank you.  I can just get a cab.”

007 rolled his eyes.  “I can get you home faster than a cab.”

“I don’t doubt that 007, I’ve heard all about your antics and frankly, I would fear for my life in a car with you.”

“I’d take good care of you, Q.  Wouldn’t want to endanger my Quartermaster now, would I?”

Q rolled his eyes.  “How touching but really, I’ll be fine in a taxi.”

“Surely my car is better than waiting around for a cab to maybe show up, warmer too.  And dryer, you know it was absolutely pouring when I got here.” with that he turned and headed off down the corridor towards the tunnel that lead to the underground carpark.

Q sighed.  He knew that he could easily turned away and walk off in the opposite direction, take the lift up to street level and hail a cab like he’d intended but the thought was unappealing.  All he really wanted to do was get home and sleep and unfortunately Bond was right, at that time of night there was no telling how long he’d have to wait.  With that in mind, he turned and followed the agent down to the carpark.

“Not very practical, is it 007?” he asked as they approached the sleek silver Aston Martin sat in the practically empty carpark.

Bond threw a glance over his shoulder.  “Practicality isn’t exactly my first priority, Q.”

“You don’t say.” he muttered, standing back as the agent unlocked the car and pulled open the passenger side door.

“Quartermaster.” the other man said sardonically.

Q pursed his lips and tutted as he stepped forwards and lowered himself into the sports car, tugging the seatbelt around himself while Bond closed the door.  He was surreptitiously yanking on it to make sure it was properly plugged in when Bond folded himself into the driving seat, as he’d said before, Q was well aware of the man’s driving style and had no desire to end up flying through the windscreen when Bond inevitably wrapped the Aston Martin around a lamppost.  “Shall I put my postcode into the satnav?” he asked as Bond started up the car.

“No need.  I already know where you live, Q.” the agent replied, throwing the car into reverse and backing out of the space far too quickly for Q’s liking.

“I beg your pardon.” he bit out, clutching his satchel to his chest while the car sped towards the exit.  “How could you possibly know where I live?”

Bond was smirking as he careered up the ramp that would take them to the main road.  “I’ve read your file.”

“You’ve what?” Q spluttered, frowning through the darkness of the car.  “How could you have read my file?  I know for a fact it’s encrypted, on a higher level than yours.”

“I have my sources.” he paused as he pulled out onto the deserted roads.  “Not that there’s much to read, most of it is redacted.  Do you not think it’s strange that your name is redacted but your address isn’t?”

“Not particularly.  The entire file is encrypted.  Besides, my security system is top of the range and highly modified by myself so if someone found my house they wouldn’t be able to get in.  Anyway, why did you go to the trouble of reading my file?”

“I was curious, besides you’ve read mine, haven’t you?”

He grimaced.  “Not by choice.  M, that is the previous M, told me that it was important for me to be familiar with the agents I’d be working with.  I hated doing it, felt too intrusive but she insisted.”

“Hm.  She was a hard woman to say no to.” Bond murmured unfathomably.

Q didn’t reply, just took in the harsh lines of Bond’s profile illuminated by the streetlights that were flashing past far too quickly.

“Still, you’ve read my file and I’ve read yours.  I’d say we’re even, wouldn’t you?”

He hummed noncommittally.  “I suppose.”

007 turned and flashed him a grin.

“Eyes on the road please, I would like to actually make it home tonight and not end up in the nearest hospital.”

The other man laughed softly but did as he said.  “I told you Q, I’ll take good care of you.”

Q huffed and turned away, watching the dark streets zoom by the window.  He spent the entire journey concentrating on keeping his jacket potato where it belonged, rather than vomiting it all over the leather interior while Bond rounded corner after corner far too quickly.  They arrived in front of his house in record time and as Bond slid the car into an impossibly small space, Q allowed himself to breath properly for the first time since he got in.

“Here we are, safe and sound just like I said.”

He harrumphed, stretching out his fingers, which had gone stiff thanks to the death grip he’d had on his satchel, before unbuckling his seatbelt.

“Oh come on Q, it wasn’t that bad.”

Humming, Q opened the door.  “It could’ve been worse I suppose.  Anyway, thank you for driving me home.”

“Don’t mention it.  I hope you enjoyed the _ride_.” Bond breathed, his tone laced with innuendo.

“Must you turn everything into awful innuendo?”

“Yes, it’s another one for my special talents.” he drawled.

“Goodnight, 007.” he said, sighing in exasperation as he clambered ungracefully out of the low slung car.

“Night, Q.”

He’d expected Bond to just leave as soon as he’d set foot on the pavement but he didn’t, instead he sat idling in the space while Q made his way up the path to his front door.  He could feel the weight of Bond’s gaze on him as he fished his house keys out of his pocket, truthfully it was rather comforting.  Not that he lived in a bad neighbourhood, he didn’t, on the contrary he lived on a nice leafy road lined with neat terraced houses.  But Q was well aware of who he was and the secrets that lived inside his head, so he usually felt a little jumpy when getting home so late but the presence of a double-oh was reassuring.  Only when he’d unlocked his grey door and stepped over the threshold did Bond pull away, engine growling as he accelerated down the street. 

Q shut the door behind him and flipped on the light, disabling his security system before shrugging off his parka.  A loud meow alerted him to his welcoming party; he looked down to see his slightly over-weight ginger tabby cat padding towards him.  Q crouched down and scratched the cat behind his ears as the cat head butted his knee, leaving ginger hair over his trousers.

“Thanks for that, Edison.” he grumbled, smiling fondly.  “Any idea where Sylvia is, hmm?” the cat mewled loudly before waddling off into the sitting room.  “Nope, didn’t think so.” Q straightened up and brushed away the hair with a frown as he kicked off his shoes.  Sylvia was his highly strung black cat, who was no doubt hiding somewhere sulking because he was so late home.  Sure enough, when he stepped into the kitchen he caught sight of a pair of yellow eyes judging him from the top of the fridge.  When he turned on the light she leapt down, still glaring at him.  Q felt like a teenager who’d just been caught sneaking in late by his mother.  “Don’t look at me like that miss…” he muttered, pulling a glass out of the cupboard and filling it with water.  “…I don’t say anything when you stay out all night chasing tomcats.” Sylvia flicked her tail at him and showed him her arse as she sashayed out of the cat flap.

Q took a sip of his water and headed upstairs, turning off the lights and making sure his security system was enabled as he went.  He brushed his teeth and stripped off his cardigan, shirt and trousers and crawled under his duvet, he was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

* * *

 

He didn’t notice the coat until R pointed it out to him. 

He’d got into work at the same time as usual, despite the fact that he’d only had a couple of hours sleep, and was booting up his laptop so he could print out the incident reports from the night before, when the woman came in carrying his morning tea.

“Whose coat is that?” she asked, setting the tea on his desk.

“Hm?” he murmured, glancing up from his paperwork to see the black pea coat with a leather collar hanging neatly over his spare chair.  Q frowned, wondering exactly how the man had managed to leave it there and exactly how he himself hadn’t noticed.  He didn’t know what to say, while he trusted R, he had to she was his second in command after all; he didn’t know whether Bond would appreciate him saying anything about his night time visit.  So he lied.  “I’m-I’m not sure.  It was in the comms room when I left last night; it probably belongs to one of the techs.”

R raised her eyebrows.  “Looks a bit expensive for the minions, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, yes I suppose it does.” he replied, pulling a face at the nickname she and Eve had come up with for the members of Q-Branch, he’d told them it was ridiculous but they wouldn’t listen.

The blonde hummed and brushed her fingers over the woollen coat.  “Should I take it to lost property for you?”

“No that’s ok.  I’ll deal with it, thanks though.” just then there was a knock on the door.  “Yes.” he called, picking up his mug and taking a sip.

The door opened and Jonathan, one of his tech developers, stepped in.  “Sorry to interrupt but 002 is here to collect her equipment.”

R nodded.  “Coming.  See you later, Q.”

Q bobbed his head as she left the room but kept his eyes on his screen as he sent everything to his office printer.

He was just stamping the forms with his personal mark, because there was no point in him actually signing them, a Q was too easy to forge and according to his file he didn’t have a real name, when there was another knock on his door.  This time the knocker didn’t wait for him to answer just pushed the door open and strode in. 

Because of the rudeness, Q half expected to see Bond but instead it was Eve, clutching a stack of files to her chest.  “Morning, Q.”

“Eve, are you here for the incident reports?”

She shook her head.  “No, M asked me to bring you these…” she set the stack on the edge of his desk.  “…they need reading and stamping.”

“More paperwork?!” he spat glaring at the offending documents.  “Does M think I have nothing better to do?  What the fuck does he think we do down here??  Wait around for him to deliver his next load of shite?  I don’t have time for it, unless he wants me sending agents out with nothing but a pair of chopsticks and some silly string!”

“Oh dear, not had your morning Earl Grey?”

“Fuck off!” he retorted, cradling his mug to his chest.

Eve grinned and headed for the chair opposite him, eyes falling on the coat.  “Isn’t that…” she broke off as the door was pushed open yet again.

“For god sake, it’s like Piccadilly Circus down here this morning.” he muttered as 007 strode in.

He grinned.  “Morning Q and Eve, you’re looking as radiant as ever.”

Eve rolled her eyes.  “Piss off, 007.”

“Charming.” he stopped, his eyes sweeping across the office.  “Ah, there it is.” striding past Eve, who eyed him suspiciously, he scooped up his coat, throwing it over his arm.  “Thank you for taking such good care of it, Q.”

“You’re lucky it’s still there, R wanted to take it to lost property.” he sniffed, taking another mouthful of tea.

“You wouldn’t have let her do that, would you?”

Q narrowed his eyes.  “I might have.  It’s like I’ve said before, 007, you should take better care of your things.”

“Dear me, someone got out the wrong side of the bed this morning.” Bond teased, arching an eyebrow.  “You weren’t this grumpy when I left you last night.”

Eve, who’d been watching their exchange with a kind of morbid fascination, looked so surprised it was almost funny.  “What?” she said, looking between Q and Bond in confusion.

“Go away, 007.” he snapped, ignoring Eve’s question. 

“So rude.”

He snorted.  “I’m learning from the best, it would seem.  You know, most people knock before barging their way into some else’s office.”

“Hm.  I’ll try and remember that.”

“I won’t hold out much hope, if it’s all the same to you.”

The agent laughed as he left the room, at least having the decency to close the door behind him.

“What was all that about?” Eve asked as soon as he’d gone.

Q shrugged.  “How should I know?  You can leave if you like; I’ll send the paperwork up with Chelsea later.”

“No no…” she replied, smirking somewhat evilly as she stepped forwards and settled herself into the chair.  “…I think I’ll wait.”

Q kept quiet, he’d been expecting her to say that, if there was one thing Eve couldn’t resist it was office gossip.  He ducked his head down and tugged the new stack of paperwork towards him unenthusiastically.

“So, what did Bond mean?”

“By what exactly?”

Eve gave a good natured sigh.  “You know what, Q.”

He did, unfortunately.  “It’s nothing really.  I was working late; he dropped by, got on my nerves for over an hour and then offered me a lift home.  I said yes.  End of story.”

Eve looked unconvinced.  “Why was he here?  M sent him home after his debrief.”

“I wouldn’t know.  I don’t profess to understand the inner most workings of 007’s mind, Eve.”

“Neither do I…” the woman grinned.  “…but I imagine it’s mostly explosions and pornography.”

Q frowned.  He didn’t believe that, not for one second.  Bond was intelligent, more intelligent than people gave him credit for and he definitely wasn’t the thug for hire everyone painted him to be.


	3. I Do Hope It Isn't A Sign Of Senility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then Q begins to wonder if Bond is going senile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first attempt at writing 00Q. Please read and leave a comment or kudos. I have more chapters written which I will upload if you like this one.  
> Unfortunately I do not own James Bond or Q or any recognisable characters in this story.  
> Oh and it's completely unbetaed so all mistakes are mine, please let me know if you notice any :D

“Take the next right 004…” he said into his headset, double checking the building schematics.  “…you should come to a stairwell.”

There was the sound of footsteps and breathing as the agent followed his instructions.  “Yep.”

“Ok.  You need to go up.” Q paused and turned to Bryony, the analyst monitoring the helicopter team.  “Is evac in place?”

The brunette nodded.  “Yes, sir.”

As she said that, 004 cursed loudly and followed it up with two gunshots.  “What?” Q demanded.  “What was that?”

“Security guards.” the agent replied, barely sounding out of breath, even though Q could hear his rapid footsteps up the stairs.  “Two of them.”

He made a noise in the back of his throat.  “Right, keep heading up and you’ll come to a fire door; it’ll take you out onto the roof.  They evac team is waiting for you.  The door’s alarmed; I would disable it but by the time they get up there you’ll be long gone.”

“Copy that.”

Q sat back and turned off the two-way comms, he’d keep an eye out but all the agent had to do was go up and get the helicopter and even a Double-Oh couldn’t cock that up.  As he did that a mug of tea appeared at his elbow.  He raised his eyebrows at the tea deliverer.  “What’s this for?”

“Well you won’t let me touch anything so I thought I’d make myself useful.” 007 replied, leaning easily against the bench beside him.

The agent had turned up just before 004 had been due to come online, fresh from his post mission physical, and started prowling around the room, frightening the interns and fiddling with the various prototypes people were working on.  So far he hadn’t offered any explanation for his presence.

“Of course I wouldn’t let you touch it; it was a prototype homing grenade that I haven’t got quite right yet.  Had you dropped it, the whole place could’ve gone up in smoke.” Q grumbled, eying the tea.  As a rule he didn’t drink tea made by anyone other than himself and R, the takeaway tea from the night before had been an aberration borne from laziness and desperation for caffeine.  Surprisingly 007’s tea was the perfect shade of sepia unlike the milky abominations other people presented to him on occasion.  He picked it up and took a cautious sip, humming.  “Not bad…” he stopped abruptly, reaching out to snatch up the watch he’d been tinkering with, halting 007’s fingers which had been ghosting towards it.  “…don’t!  That’s 005’s, not yours.  Just because you made me tea, doesn’t mean you can mess with everything.”

Just then M strode in, with Eve following close behind him.  Every single person stood up just that bit straighter, except Bond who slouched further back against Q’s bench, his arms folded across his chest.

“007, what are you doing down here?” M asked as he drew closer.

Bond shrugged.  “Just paying my favourite Quartermaster a visit.”

“I’m your only Quartermaster, you idiot.” Q muttered, rolling his eyes before turning to M.  “004 has just completed his objective, sir.  Evac have picked him up.”

“Excellent.  Is there anything I should know?”

He shook his head.  “No.  Just two dead security guards and the building is still intact.”

“Good.  You see Bond; it is possible to complete your mission without destroying half of the city at the same time.”

“Not as much fun though.” Bond drawled.

M tutted.  “Don’t forget your meeting with the Home Office tomorrow, Quartermaster and might I suggest not using 007’s weapons expenses as an example for the Board.”

“If I did that, they’d cut all funding to Q-Branch for good.”

Bond huffed indignantly.  “I am not that bad.”

“Yes you are.  You’ve yet to return a gun and you almost blew up Buenos Aires.” Q retorted.  “Was there anything else, sir?”

“No, Quartermaster that’s all.  Please do something with your hair before tomorrow and do not wear that jumper.” M said pointedly, raising his eyebrows before leaving, taking Eve with him but not before she bugged her eyes at him and grinned widely.

He frowned down at the offending garment.  “What’s wrong with my jumper?”

Bond smirked.  “Nothing.  It was knitted by your blind grandmother, wasn’t it?”

“Don’t you anywhere better to be?” Q snapped waspishly, cradling his mug against his chest.

“Like where?”

He shrugged his shoulders.  “I don’t know, home?  You could be doing housework, like normal people do on days off work.”

“I’m living at a hotel, remember.  There’re maids that do that stuff for me.”

“Lucky you.” he muttered flatly, taking another sip of his tea.  “Since you’re not going to bugger off any time soon, you may as well make yourself useful.  Come with me, I need to update your palm print for your next gun and I’m working on a scope for a sniper rifle with a retinal scanner.  I’ve been waiting for someone to test it.” he paused, getting up from his stool.  “R, I’ll be in R&D if anyone needs me.” his second-in-command nodded as he led Bond out of the comms room and down the corridor, still carrying his mug of tea.  “If you touch anything in here, I will personally cut off both your hands and beat you over the head with them.”

Bond held up his hands.  “I won’t touch a thing, I promise.”

Q hummed, he wasn’t convinced.  There were things in R&D that most of the people who worked in Q-Branch hadn’t seen and he highly doubted that the agent would be able to go in there without actually touching anything.  Unfortunately everything he needed was in there and it would’ve been too much of a faff to collect it and take it to the comms room, only to take it back when he’d finished.  “Sit on that stool.” he said, leading Bond across the room, nodding at the few weapons developers who were working in there.  “Keep your hands where I can see them.”

“Sir, yes sir.” the older man quipped, saluting before doing as he was told.

He rolled his eyes and turned to the bench, gathering together everything he needed.  “Jonathan, do you know where the palm scanner is?”

“I have it…” he replied.  “…003 needed me to recode the micro-dermal sensors in his Beretta.”

“Ah yes, I forgot.” he murmured, retrieving the scanner.  “We may as well scan your left palm while we’re here, that way I can program the sniper rifle for testing.”

Bond didn’t reply, Q supposed he was too busy eying up tech that was scattered around the room that he wanted to mess around with.

“What’s under the sheet?” he asked after a few minutes of silence.

Q hummed, keeping his eyes on the scanner screen.  He knew exactly what the agent was talking about but he wasn’t going to bite as easily as that.

“Is it a car?” Bond prompted.

“What does it look like?”

“A car.  Can I see it?”

He looked up then.  “No you can’t.  It’s not for you.”

“Whose is it then?”

“Undecided but it’s definitely not yours.”

Bond huffed.  “Why not?  Every other agent gets nice things and all I get is a gun and a radio.”

“Because, 007, you have yet to prove that you can consistently return tech.” he started crisply.  “The other day you informed me that you’d mislaid your _unused_ equipment.  So, there is no way I’m going to give you a five million pound car, only to have you lose it or crash it into a river.  When you start returning your tech I will start giving you more interesting items.”

The other man pouted, actually pouted like a child.  “Can’t I even look at it?” he cajoled, smiling charmingly.

Q groaned.  It was like dealing with a child.  “If you can get this done without touching anything you’re not supposed to, I will show you the car.”

“Can I sit in it?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

He sorted the palm prints first before moving on to testing the rifle in the firing range, there were a few glitches with the retinal scanner which would be simple to iron out but overall the tests had been successful.  When they returned to R&D, Bond waited patiently while Q put everything back before finally turning to the covered car sitting in the corner of the workshop.

“It’s a DB10.” he said, pulling the dust sheet off with a flourish.  “I’m not quite finished with it yet.  I’m planning on installing a flame thrower in the back bumper and target seeking rifles in the bonnet.  There’re twelve rockets behind the radiator grill and machine guns on the front and back and an ejector seat.  I’m working on a rear facing double barrelled shotgun which might go behind the badge, if I can fit it in of course.”

As he talked, Bond walked round the car taking in every angle before bending to peer in the windows.  “What about a cloaking device?”

Q tutted.  “Of course not.  Quite why anyone thought that was a good idea I’ll never know, you agents have enough trouble with bringing back _visible_ tech.”

“It actually came in handy.”

Q made a low noise.  “If you say so.”

“I do.  Are you sure I can’t sit in it?”

“Absolutely positive, 007.” he paused, watching as the man ran a hand over the bodywork.

“It looks good, Q.  I like it.” Bond said finally, stepping back from the car.

He looked down, hoping to hide the flush that coloured his cheeks.  “Well, thank you for that assessment.  I do so value your opinion.”

“That sounded sarcastic.”

“That’s because it was.” Q countered, still studiously avoiding his gaze.  “Are you going to help me cover it up again?”

“Since you asked so nicely.” Bond replied sardonically, stooping down to pick up the sheet before offering him one side.  Q took it and together they re-covered the car.  “What time is it?” he asked once they’d finished.  Before Q could answer, Bond had snagged his wrist and pulled the sleeve of his jumper back, examining his watch.  “I need to go, I’ve got dinner reservations.  I’ll see you tomorrow, Q.”

Bond was gone before Q could ask why he’d see him tomorrow. 

“Everything ok, Q?” Jonathan asked.

He turned, rubbing his wrist absentmindedly, the skin that Bond had touched tingling.  “Hm?  Oh, yes fine.  How are we getting on with our little project?”

“Not bad.  The problem is fitting the tech in.”

“We knew it’d been difficult.  Any problems with the sensors?”

Jonathan grunted.  “A few.  The surface area is so small; it’s so fiddly getting enough on the casing to actually monitor everything.  How is 004 getting on?”

He hummed softly.  “Finished.  Minimal fatalities and no explosions.  He’s on the evac helicopter.  Let me know if you how you get on, because if this doesn’t work, we might have to try something else.”

“Like what?”

“No idea.” he muttered, running his fingers though his tangled hair.  “I’d better get back to comms.  See you later.”    

He noticed the coat as soon as he got back, draped over the desk, exactly where he had left it.  Rolling his eyes, he picked it up and took it to his office.

He passed the rest of the day with paperwork, finishing up everything for 001’s mission, which she’d be leaving for in the morning, before moving on to his part of 004’s mission report.  He finished just before seven o’clock, the comms room was still busy, with R and her handling team bustling around, monitoring 008’s mission in case she needed any assistance.  Q was planning on staying until everything settled down.  He was just contemplating venturing down to the canteen to get some food, when his phone started ringing from the depths of his satchel.  He pulled it out and frowned down at the screen which showed that it was an unknown number.  He was instantly weary, only a select few had his personal number and all of them were stored in his contacts list.  He nearly tapped ‘ignore’ but curiosity got the better of him.

“Hello?” he said hesitantly, his body tense as he waited to hear the voice of his unknown caller.

“Q?”

Relief flooded through him.  “Bond?  How did you get this number?”

“Eve gave it to me.  Did I leave my coat there?”

“You did.  It’s in my office.”

There was a little background noise, the rustle of fabric, the sound of footsteps and the closing of a door.  “Oh good.  Can you hold on to it?”

Q leaned back in his chair.  “I suppose.  You seem to be quite forgetful for a double-oh.  I do hope it isn’t a sign of senility, then again at your age I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Bond let out a bark of laughter.  “Cheeky.  Have you sorted out those spots yet?”  

“Hilarious, 007.” he grumbled, listening to the sound of movement and fabric swishing against fabric, there was a tinny beep and then Bond spoke again.

“Where are you?”

“Work.” he replied, straightening the stack of paper on his desk.  “Layla is in Jordan and I need to be around just in case, so I’m going to be here for a while.  I thought you had dinner reservations.”

“I do.  I’m meeting Sienna in half an hour.”

Q made a quiet noise, still fiddling unnecessarily with the clutter in front of him.  “Well, have a nice evening.”

“You too, Q.” the other man drawled as there was another ping followed by the sound of lift doors opening and then he hung up.

He stared down at his phone for a few long moments before heaving a long sigh, shoving the phone back into his bag and heading out to get himself food.

* * *

The meeting with the Home Office was a total waste of time; Q had known it would be.  There was no way they weren’t going to approve the funding, if they did they’d leave the country horribly vulnerable and basically sign the death warrants of every single SIS agent.

Q almost resented the effort he’d put in to looking presentable, as per M’s request, for such a pointless meeting.  He’d spent ages taming his hair and had even broken out the hideously expensive navy blue suit that his sister had bought him for his new job, according to her a Branch-Head at MI6 had to dress smartly.  He’d worn it on his first day, felt stupidly overdressed and shoved it at the back of his wardrobe as soon as he got home.

Despite the futility of the meeting, it had still dragged on and on, so he was late back to comms and 001 was already there waiting for him, flirting with Peter who looked absolutely terrified.

“Wow, look at you.” the agent grinned, eyeing him appreciatively.  “You should dress like that more often.”

 “Not likely.  I feel like I’m being slowly strangled.” he muttered, grimacing as he stripped off his suit jacket and loosened his tie.  “Sorry I’m late, fucking meeting took forever.”

“Oh I don’t mind, we’ve been having a nice chat, haven’t we?” she replied, winking at Peter who went bright red, nearly dropped the tablet he was using and hurried away, tripping over his feet as he went.

“Please try not to scare him to death, 001.” Q said dryly, striding over to the locked cabinet where he’d stored 001’s equipment.  He pressed his hand against the scanner and waited for it to unlock, when it did he retrieved the paperwork, a black case, an envelope and the two other boxes and returned to the agent. 

“Your radio and standard issue SIG Sauer with the micro-dermal sensors.” he said, holding the black case out to 001 who took it and looked inside.  “I was able to salvage most of the parts from your last gun, though I’d much rather get this back in one piece.”

001 smirked, tucking it into the inside pocket of her coat.  “I’ll do my best.”     

He hummed, flipping open the watch box.  “You sound like 007.”

“Yes but unlike him, I actually mean it.” she broke off and made grabby hands at the box.  “Ooh it’s gorgeous.  I love the mother of pearl face.”

“Yes, it is rather nice isn’t it, though it was a bugger to get off in one piece to put the explosives in.”

“Explosives?  Now we’re talking.”

Q smiled.  “There’s a concealed button on the outer dial, if you hold it and turn it a quarter turn to the right, you will have one minute before it detonates.”

“Nice.  What else have you got?” 

He opened the last box.  “Diamond drop earrings or mini hand grenades, you detach the drop from the stud and you’ll have thirty seconds.  They’re quite powerful for their size so please, only use them if it’s absolutely necessary.”

“Diamond earrings?”

Q tutted as they both turned around.  “Yes, I’d make you a pair but I don’t think they’re really your style, 007.”

“Well, you never know.” he paused as he strode over to them, a large cardboard box in his arms, on top of which was his mug and a paper bag from his favourite tea room.  “Renee, lovely to see you.” he said smoothly, setting down the box on the nearest desk.

“You too, James.” 001 replied, tilting her head so Bond could kiss her cheek.

Q looked down, snapping the jewellery box closed and picking up the envelope.  “Here is your passport and tickets to Nepal.”

“Thanks, Q.  Is that everything?”

He nodded.  “Yes, I just need you to sign everything out and you can go.”

The paperwork was dealt with quickly and then 001 went off to catch her plane, while Bond stood with his hands in his pockets, watching him closely.

“Was there something you wanted, 007?”

“No.”

Q narrowed his eyes.  “What’s all this?” he asked, nodding towards the box.

“Take a look.”

He moved forwards peering into the mug first, from the smell he decided that it was orange and passionfruit tea.  He wondered, as he pulled the bag towards him, how Bond had known that was his favourite.  Inside the bag was a carefully wrapped chicken, guacamole and rocket white sourdough sandwich and a blueberry muffin.  “What’s this for?”

“Lunch.”

“Yes I can see that.  Why have you bought me lunch?”

Bond shrugged nonchalantly and stepped backwards, sitting himself on the corner opposite bench, legs splayed obscenely.  “Why not?”

Frowning, he looked down at the food.  “How did you know that was my favourite tea and sandwich and muffin from my favourite café?”

“Eve.” the other man said simply.  “She’s surprisingly easy to get information out of.”

He dealt with the tea bag and leant against the desk.  “What’s in the box?”

“A favour.”

“Well that couldn’t be any more cryptic.” he sniffed.

“Cryptic is in my job description.”

Q rolled his eyes and set down his mug, using a pair of scissors to cut through the parcel tape that sealed the box before opening the flaps.  “A steering wheel?” he said in confusion.  “Why have you given me a steering wheel?”

“It’s my steering wheel from my car, my DB5 that got blown up.”

He frowned and pulled the wheel out of the box, taking note of the scorch marks on the wooden rim.  “Why are you giving it to me?”

“Because I’m hoping you’ll agree to rebuild it for me.”

He stared at the other man in disbelief.  “Rebuild it?  Sorry 007, but I think you’ve misunderstood what I actually do here.  I am not a mechanic.  This is not garage.  If you like you can use one of the computers to find a number for an _actual garage_.”

“I don’t want just anyone doing it, besides I want it exactly as it was, ejector seat and all.” Bond said with a smile.

Q looked down at the steering wheel.  “Why?”

Bond shrugged.  “I liked the car.”

Snorting derisively, he replaced the wheel and picked up his mug.  “Well, if you were going to get sentimental about anything it would be a car, wouldn’t it 007.” he paused and took a sip of his tea, sighing as the delicious flavour coated his tongue.  “You do realise that I am incredibly busy, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.  I don’t care how long it takes.”

“And I hope you’re not expecting me to use Q-Branch funds.”

Bond rolled his eyes.  “Obviously not.  I’ll pay for everything; you just let me know what you need.”

He looked back into the box and huffed.  “I’ll look into it.” 007 opened his mouth to say something but Q just carried on talking.  “I didn’t say yes, I said I’ll look into it.  I’ll do some research, find out how easy the parts will be to source and how much it’s likely to cost and then I’ll decide.”

“That’s all I ask, Q.”


	4. Bond Made Me Go To The Arse-End Of London For That!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 007 bribes Eve into buying Q lunch and there is an abandoned phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first attempt at writing 00Q. Please read and leave a comment or kudos. I have more chapters written which I will upload if you like this one.  
> Unfortunately I do not own James Bond or Q or any recognisable characters in this story.  
> Oh and it's completely unbetaed so all mistakes are mine.

Bond’s visits became routine.  He came in every single day, sometimes all day and sometimes only for a few hours, sometimes with tea or lunch and sometimes empty handed.  After the first three days of him hanging around, fiddling with things he really shouldn’t be touching and generally making an arse out of himself, Q decided to put him to work, testing prototypes and making sure all of the weapons in their armoury were in full working order. 

To his surprise Q found that he didn’t mind the agent’s presence, in fact he got used to it embarrassingly quickly even if the rest of Q-Branch didn’t.  All of them seemed to have adopted a two pronged plan of attack for when 007 turned up, first they would avoid eye contact at all costs and second they would make themselves look as busy as possible, some even went as far as scurrying out of the room with expressions of faked importance on their faces.  Q found it all rather ridiculous while Bond found it hilarious and had started keeping score of how many he could terrify.  So far there had been numerous ruined blueprints, report forms and in one instance a whole laptop, thanks to various people knocking over cups of tea and coffee when Bond deliberately caught their eye.  The laptop was coming out of his pay check; Q had it in writing from M himself.

Still, after a week of proper downtime and another week with no missions, Bond was getting more and more bored and more and more irritating.  So when Q got to work to find an email from M about Bond’s next mission, he knew he should’ve been jumping for joy, after all the man had been complaining for days, so he should be pleased to finally get him out of his hair but instead he felt a little bereft, which was pathetic really.  This was Bond’s job, for god sake, he wasn’t paid to potter around Q-Branch, testing prototypes.

Just then there was a knock at the door.  “Come in.” he called, shoving away his ridiculous feelings and concentrating on opening 007’s mission brief.

The door opened and Katie, one of the handlers, stepped inside carrying his mug.  “Morning, sir.” she said, striding over to the desk and setting the mug down beside him.  “Don’t worry, R made it, I’m just delivering.”

He smiled weakly, not looking up from his screen.  He’d found out quickly, that despite the fact that Katie was extremely good at her job she made an atrocious cup of tea.

“Everything ok, Q?” she asked, sounding concerned.

“Oh, yes fine.” he said, lifting his head.  “007 is going out tomorrow, oh five hundred hours.  Could you sort his passport, hotel booking and tickets to Copenhagen?  I’ll send you the details.”

“Of course.  004’s plane is still in the air, ETA is half past eleven.”

“Great.  Thank you, Katie.” he replied, shooting her a vague smile before looking back at the screen.

Q read the mission report quickly and was a little too pleased to see that it wasn’t a long mission, five days at most apparently, so with a slightly happier disposition he gathered equipment for Bond’s mission.  It didn’t take long since he was rationing the man to just a gun and a radio and they already had a Walther coded to Bond’s palm print that he’d taken (without asking) for target practice the day before, so he quickly moved on to the paperwork which was completely pointless.  The man was incapable of returning equipment whether he’d signed something to say he would or not, but protocol was protocol.  Even if it was stupid.

Once he’d finished the paperwork and printed it, along with 004’s mission report, he stamped everything and headed out to check up on 008’s mission, she was just wrapping up with R directing her but he stayed to watch the monitors anyway.

The morning passed slowly, with Bond noticeably (for Q anyway) absent.  He supposed the man was stuck in mission briefing and whatnot.  That was confirmed when Eve turned up with lunch for him.

“I hope you’re grateful…” she groused, shoving one of the paper bags she was holding at him and slumping on the opposite stool.  “…Bond made me go to the arse-end of London for that.”

Q sniffed.  “Well you didn’t have to; I am capable of getting my own lunch despite what 007 seems to think.”

“I tried to tell him that but he said that you’d probably forget to eat, which we both know is true.” she paused and opened the bag she’d kept, pulling out her own lunch.  “Besides, he paid for mine too and I got the most expensive sandwich they do, millionaire’s shortbread, a smoothie that cost £2.80 and a bottle of Vergelegen Cabernet Sauvignon Merlot.”

“A bottle of that costs thirty quid!”

She shrugged and unwrapped her sandwich.  “So, he shouldn’t use me as a delivery service, should he?”

Humming, he opened his own sandwich and took a bite.  “I assume he’s in his mission briefing.”

“No, that finished a while ago.  He’s in medical for his pre-mission physical.” she stopped and took a delicate bite of her sandwich, chewing and swallowing before carrying on.  “What’s going on with you two anyway?”

He swallowed thickly.  “What do you mean?”

“Well he’s always down here for a start.  And then there’s the lunches and the tea and the questions.”

Q tutted loudly.  “You don’t have to answer those, you know.”

“I know but he’s bloody persistent and mostly I tell him just to get rid of him.  Anyway, come on, what’s going on?”

He took another bite of his sandwich to put off answering.  The truth was he didn’t know what was going on.  He didn’t know why Bond kept turning up.  He didn’t know why he chose to hang around Q-Branch when really, he didn’t need to be in the building at all.  He could be anywhere, doing anything.  Instead he chose to test everything Q threw at him, buy him tea and lunch and even drive him home, when he wasn’t on dates with various women of course.  Really, the whole situation was confusing.  “Nothing.” he said finally.  “He turns up, behaves like a twat until I give him something to do and then, more often than not, leaves something behind.  I’m starting to think he’s going senile or something.”

“And the tea and lunches?”

Q shrugged.  “God knows.”

Eve frowned.  “What kind of things does he leave behind?”

“Oh loads of things.  He’s left his coat a few times, his suit jacket, his watch, though that might’ve been my fault because I was tinkering with it at the time, and yesterday he left behind his phone.”

Her eyebrows rose.  “His phone?”

Q nodded quickly.  “Yes.  He was messing with it, probably texting his latest paramour, and then put it down to make me some tea.  He went down to the firing range to test a new machine gun and didn’t bother to take it with him or come back for it.”

“Well, that’s certainly odd.” she replied pensively.  “Maybe it’s so he has an excuse to come back.”

“He’s James Bond; he doesn’t need an excuse to do anything.”

Eve smiled but didn’t say anything more on the subject, leaving Q wondering what she was thinking.

Bond swanned in just after his tickets and passport arrived.

Q was busy packing away the 004’s intact equipment, thinking about heading home in the hope of actually getting an early night for once.

“Evening, Q.”

“Good evening, 007.” he said, glancing up.  “I have your equipment all ready to go.”

“Anything new?” the agent asked somewhat hopefully.

“No.” he said shortly, retrieving the case and envelope.  “Your Walther and radio, I’ve included an earpiece though I’m well aware that it’s unlikely you’ll need it, nevertheless I’d rather you kept it with you just in case and then when you don’t use it, you can return it in full working order.”

“I’ll do my best.”

He snorted loudly.  “Of course you will.  Here are your tickets and passport and the check-in information for your hotel.”

“Much appreciated, Q.” he paused, tucking everything away inside his coat.  “I don’t suppose you’ve seen my…”Q was holding the phone out to him before he’d even finished speaking. “…phone.  Thank you.”

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, you should take better care of your things.” he hesitated, picking up the paperwork and holding it out to him.  “Sign these please.”

Bond smirked and taking the forms obediently, plucking a pen from the pot and leaning against his desk, scrawling his messy signature at the bottom before handing it back.  “Are you going home?”

“Yes, I am.” he replied, locking away the papers in his drawer.

“Would you like a lift?”

Q arched an eyebrow.  “No hot date tonight?”

“I prefer not to indulge before a mission.”

He hummed, shoving his laptop into his satchel.

“What about you, do you ever _indulge_ , Q?”

He only just managed to stop the splutter which threatened to spill out but he could do nothing to stop the blush that spread across his face.  “That’s hardly any of your business, Bond.”

The older man smirked.  “I do believe I just made you blush.”

Huffing, he turned away and keeping his eyes fixed on his computer screen as he shut it down.

 “So, about that lift.”

“I’ll just get the tube.” he muttered.

“Oh come on, Q don’t be like that.  I’m leaving tomorrow for five whole days, admit it, you’ll miss me.”

“Hardly.  The brief says five days, at the most.  Chances are you’ll be back in two.  I’ll have no time to miss you.” he said evenly, heading over to retrieve his coat.

“I could always stretch it out for a bit longer, so you _do_ have time to miss me.”

He rolled his eyes.  “That would be inadvisable, don’t you think 007?  Besides, you’d have to be gone for months before I’d even start to miss you.”

“Ouch.  I might think twice about driving you home now.” 

“Fine.” Q shrugged and pulled on his coat, slipping his bag over his shoulder.  “I actually don’t mind the tube, I find it quite calming.  You should try it sometime.”

“I don’t think so, if it’s all the same to you.  I doubt you’d find it calming if you’d had a derailed tube train coming towards you.”

He hummed softly and headed out of his office and over to R, who was still busy with paperwork, all too aware of his 007 shaped shadow.  “I’m going home.  Anything you need before I go?”

R shook her head, glancing curiously at Bond.  “Nope, we’re all fine here.  You go.”

“Right, well ok.  See you tomorrow.”

“You too.  Text me when you get in, won’t you?”

He opened his mouth to reply but Bond was speaking before he could get any words out.  “He’ll be fine, I’m driving him home.”

R’s eyes widened, every time the agent had driven him home before the department had been empty so no one really knew about that, he hadn’t even mentioned it to Eve.  “Is he?”

“No, he’s not.” he turned to Bond.  “You’re not.  I told you, I’m getting the tube.”

“Come on, my car’s much faster and safer.”

“Debatable.” he muttered before saying goodbye to R and striding out into the corridor, 007 still trailing behind him.

“And you won’t have to be around all those unsavoury people.”

“Oh I don’t know, you’ll still be there.”

Bond let out a wounded noise and sped up, falling into step beside him.  “You say such hurtful things, Q.”

He rolled his eyes and kept quiet, taking the lift up to ground level with the older man showing no sign of heading down to the carpark.  Instead, he followed him out onto the street and stayed with him as he turned in the direction of the tube station.  “What exactly are you doing?”

“Getting the tube with you.  You did say that I should try it.”

“I didn’t mean…” he broke off and shook his head.  “…oh never mind.”

They walked beside each other in silence, it felt very odd being out in public with him, so far they’d only interacted at work and in his car.  But this, this felt different.  He felt horribly awkward, Bond moved elegantly, sidestepping the other pedestrians with ease while he stumbled and very nearly bumped into people numerous times.

As they crossed the main road and started down Grand Avenue, Bond finally spoke.  “I think your phone is ringing.”

He jumped.  The other man’s voice closer than Q had expected.  As soon as he said it, he could hear the stupid tinkling ring tone that he’d never got round to changing.  They slowed as he fished the device out of his bag and grimaced at the screen.

“Who is it?”

“My sister.” he replied reluctantly.  “I should probably answer it.”

Bond shrugged.  “Go ahead.”

He tapped the answer icon and pressed the phone to his ear.  “Hello, Holly.”

“That took you long enough.” his sister drawled tartly.

He sniffed.  “Yes well, I almost didn’t answer.”

“Rude, little brother.”

He rolled his eyes.  “We are the same age.”

“I’m older.”

“Yes, by three minutes.”

“Still older.  How are you anyway?”

“Fine.  Busy as usual.  How are you?  How are Alexander and Richard?”

“They’re both good.  Rich says hello by the way and Alexander is absolutely gorgeous.  He’s starting to sit up on his own and roll over and sleep through the night, thank god.  He’s getting so strong as well, yesterday Rich filmed him holding onto his bottle all by himself, I’ll have to send it to you.”

He got so caught up in listening to her gush about how his five month old nephew was doing that he very nearly walked right across Charterhouse Street and into the path of the oncoming traffic, if it hadn’t been for Bond grabbing his elbow and yanking him back, he would have.

“Jesus, Q!” Bond snapped.  “Watch where you’re going!”

He staggered back, his heart pounding.  “Sorry.”

“What happened?” Holly asked urgently.  “Are you ok?”

Bond spoke at the same time.  “How do you manage to get home in one piece when you’re on your own?”

“Quite well usually.” he muttered before replying to his sister.  “I’m fine, Holls.”

“Who was that?” Holly demanded, clearly no longer bothered by what could’ve been, for all she knew, his last moment on earth.  “Are you with someone?  He sounded sexy.  Have you got a new boyfriend, Ads?”

“Well that’s nice, isn’t it?  Your brother was almost hit by a car and all you’re bothered about is if I’ve got a new boyfriend or not.” he huffed, hurrying across the road along with everyone else.  “And for your information, no he is not my new boyfriend.  He is…” he stopped, unsure of what to call him.  “…a colleague.”

“A sexy colleague?”

He groaned.  “An annoying colleague.”

“Again with the hurtful comments, Q.  I’m beginning to think you don’t like me.” Bond put in, steering him across the next road.

“Whatever made you think that I did?” he said waspishly.

His sister sniggered.  “Oooh, snarky flirting.”

“I am not flirting!!” he yelped, causing a few people around him to turn in surprise.

Bond just laughed.

Holly hummed down the line.  “God, even his laugh is sexy.”

“No it isn’t.” he grumbled, shooting a scowl at 007.

“So this friend of yours…”

“He’s not my friend!”

“Charming.” Bond muttered from his left hand side.

His sister tutted.  “Fine, this colleague, that’s not a friend and definitely not your boyfriend, what’s his name?”

“None of your business.”

“That’s not fair, Ads…” his sister whined, sounding much like she’d done when they were little.  “…I’ve been cooped up with a baby for five months, that least you can do is let me live vicariously through you.”   

“Sorry Holls, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to find someone more interesting to live vicariously through.”

She sighed heavily.  “Are you really not going to tell me his name?”

“Nope, really not going to tell you.”

“Fine, I’ll just call him Sexy Voice.”

“Must you?”

“Yes.” she replied shortly.  “Does he work in your branch?  Is he one of your minions?”

He let out a laugh as they rounded the corner onto Cowcross Street.  The thought of 007 being one of his ‘minions’ was so hilarious that he forgot to be annoyed at the stupid nickname.  “No, he’s not one of my minions.”

Bond chuckled.

“So what is he then?”

“A pain in my arse.” he offered, smirking at the older man beside him.  “I’m going to have to go; we’re almost at the tube station.”

“Aww but we were just getting to the good stuff.”

He hummed.  “No, we really weren’t.”

“Are you free for lunch on Sunday?  Richard would love to see you and you haven’t see Alexander since his christening.”

“I know, I know.  I’ll check and give you a ring.” he knew it was unlikely, even though he’d really like to go.  He missed her, since he’d become the Quartermaster his free time had dwindled to nothing so he hadn’t seen her for ages.  It’d been strange at first but now he was used to it, which was awful really.  He and Holly had always been close, he supposed it was the twins thing, well that and the plethora of care homes they’d survived together.    

“You’d better.  Say bye to Sexy Voice for me.”

“Bye, Holls.” he said, rolling his eyes as he stuff the phone back into his bag.  “Not one word, 007.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

The station was packed and the train was even worse.  Q ended up wedged between a man with really bad BO and Bond, he wasn’t sure which was the lesser of two evils.  The man stank but he was hyper aware of 007’s proximity, when the other man breathed in, Q could feel his chest pressing against his back.  It was unsettling.

Suddenly Bond shifted even closer, his breath warm in Q’s ear.  “Still think this was a good idea?” he murmured, chest now pressed firmly against Q’s back.

The already warm train seemed to get even hotter.  He tugged on the collar of his parka.  It was probably the least calming train ride he’d ever experienced and he was beginning to regret not accepting Bond’s offer of a lift.  He would probably be nearly home by that point, given the way Bond drives.  He cleared his throat.  “Well, you’re welcome to get off at the next stop.  I never asked you to come all the way home with me.”

“Oh, I always go all the way Q.”

He suppressed a shudder.  “Good god.” he croaked, his throat far too dry. 

Bond chuckled.  He could feel the vibrations even through his thick coat and cardigan.

Thankfully it was only five stops before they had to change to the overground line, which was marginally less busy.  There were still no seats but they managed to claim a corner, which was certainly better than being pressed against Bond’s chest.

“Do you really not consider me your friend?” Bond asked after a few minutes of them standing in silence, swaying gently with the movement of the train.

He glanced at the other man.  “Of course I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because generally friends know things about each other.”

Bond made a quiet noise.  “We know things about each other.”

“Yes, all of which we read in a file, which isn’t the best way to go about a friendship, I don’t think.”

They fell silent for a long moment and, not for the first time; Q wondered what the older man was thinking about.

“We could give it a go.”

Q turned to look at him again, his eyebrow arched.  “Give what a go?”

“Friendship.” Bond said slowly, as if he was talking to a child.

It was probably a terrible idea, being friends with 007 was dangerous but the thing was he wasn’t sure if he was in the position to turn down friends.  He’d never had many.  For a long time, his only friend had been Holly.  As a child he’d been too strange and clever for the other children, during his teenage years he was awkward and antisocial and preferred to spend his time reading, at university all he’d been interested was getting his degree, and later his masters, he wasn’t there to make friends.  These days he was too busy for friends, the only people he interacted with on a daily basis were the members of Q-Branch, Eve and Bond.  He supposed he considered R his friend, at least they talked about things besides work and he and Eve had become friendly of late, she was nice, despite her penchant for gossip.  She’d been attempting to drag him out to lunch, though he never agreed and she ended up bringing in sandwiches or, on one occasion sushi which had been vile.  Occasionally she also bought in takeaway when he was working late.  He was beginning to think that she and Bond had a pact to fatten him up a bit because if 007 wasn’t bringing him food, Eve was.  Now that he thought about it, he probably had more friends than he’d thought but still, being friends with an agent was probably unwise.  Probably. 

“I suppose.” he started, even though he’d been fairly sure he was about to say no.  “I suppose we could.”

“No need to sound so enthusiastic, Q.” Bond replied, his voice low as the corner of his mouth quirked upwards.

Q pushed his glasses up his nose and frowned at his companion.  “I’m just surprised, that’s all.” he muttered, matching Bond’s tone which made the whole conversation seem overly intimate.  “I mean, being friends with an MI6 agent is probably inadvisable.”

“Probably.”

“But I suppose there’s no harm in giving it a go, as you said.”

Bond smiled widely, his eyes twinkling in the bright, artificial light.

He smiled back but looked away quickly, ignoring the strange coil of heat which had settled in his stomach.

They managed to get seats as the train emptied out; the second Q sat down he felt the tiredness creep up on him.  It’d been a long day, in a whole week of long days.  He was immensely glad to reach his station, if only to get a bit of fresh air to wake him up. 

“So you have a twin sister.” Bond stated as they walked along the brightly lit street.

“Oh, well deduced 007.  I can see why you’re a spy.” he grumbled mildly, hitching his satchel further up his shoulder.

“Ha ha, very funny.”

“Well, you know I live to amuse you.”

Bond snorted.  “What’s she like?”

“Could we save the ‘getting to know you’ chat?  I’m far too tired.”

“Alright then but tell me one thing that isn’t in your file.”

Q glanced at him.  “Friendship is a two way street, you know.”

“An eye for an eye then.  You tell me something not in your file and I’ll tell you something not in mine.”

“Fine.” he heaved a loud sigh, wondering what he could tell him.  “Ok.  I hate bananas.”

“Bananas?”

“Yes. I can’t stand them, the smell, the taste, the texture, everything.  Always have done.” he shuddered and pulled a face.  “Your turn.”

“Well, I like bananas and I have never read a book.”

He scoffed.  “That can’t be true.”

“It is I’m afraid.”

“Everybody has read at least one book.”

“I haven’t.”

Q shot him a sideways glance.  “Not even when you were a child?”

“No.  I preferred being outside.”

He stayed quiet for a long minute, looking down at his feet as they walked.  “You know, I don’t think I can be friends with someone who has never read a book.”

“Tough, there’s no take backs.”

Q laughed and shook his head.  “I’ll have to educate you then.”

They didn’t talk much for the rest of the walk.  Q was glad, he felt like he could barely keep his eyes open let alone hold a conversation.  He was immensely glad when they turned into his street and even happier when they reached his front gate.

“You’re not going back to work to get your car now, are you?” he asked, fishing his keys out of his pocket, fidgeting with them as they walked down his garden path.

“No.  I’ll leave the car there; it’ll be fine until I get back.”

He hummed.  “You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

“Do what?”

“Follow me home.  I am perfectly capable of getting myself home safely.”

Bond raised his eyebrows.  “You had a job getting across a road safely.”

“Yes well, I was distracted.” he huffed.  “I’m usually much more careful than that.  Anyway, I should go inside.  Have a safe trip and please attempt to return the equipment.”

Bond laughed quietly.  “I’ll see you in a few days, Q.”


	5. I May Have Driven Over It, In A Jeep That I Borrowed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bond steals a jeep, destroys a gun and apologises with a cupcake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first attempt at writing 00Q. Please read and leave a comment or kudos. I have more chapters written which I will upload if you like this one.  
> Unfortunately I do not own James Bond or Q or any recognisable characters in this story.  
> Oh and it's completely unbetaed so all mistakes are mine.

Work felt odd.  

It took him two days to work out exactly what was wrong and when he did, he felt utterly pathetic.  By and large, it was as hectic as ever, the only difference, that he could see, was the absence of 007.  The feeling was different to when he’d been elsewhere in the building, it was ridiculous and he was infuriated with himself.  So much so that he banged around Q-Branch, snapping at everyone and generally being a bastard.  It got to the stage where his behaviour was even beginning to piss himself off.

“So, what’s been going on down here?” Eve asked, on the third day after Bond had left.  “And why is everyone tiptoeing round you as if you’re about to bite their heads off at any second?”

He sighed and opened up the baguette she’d bought for him.  “Because I’ve been a twat to them all week.”

“Why?  What’s wrong?”

“Overworked and overtired probably.” he replied flippantly, before smiling at his friend, who looked worried.  “I’m fine, Eve, honestly.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded.  “Positive.  I’ll get an early night and buy them all cake tomorrow and it’ll be fine.  Anyway, what’s new with you?”

“Nothing.” she replied quickly, a little too quickly for his liking.

“Moneypenny.” he sing-songed. 

She huffed and took a sip of her bottled water, clearly playing for time.  “Do you ever say something and then spend hours wondering why you said it?”

“Frequently.  Why, what’s happened?”

Eve sighed and slumped down in her chair.  “My sister dragged me out with her and her boyfriend last night.  I didn’t want to go because I knew I’d be playing gooseberry and I was for most of the night but then I met this man, George.  He was…he was lovely, you know, easy to talk to and funny.  Different to most of the men who try and talk to me when I’m out.” she paused and sighed yet again.  “Most of them are pretentious twats but he wasn’t.  He asked for my number and I said no.”

“But you wanted to say yes?”

She hummed in agreement.  “I liked him.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“Because he’s a civilian.  I mean, realistically, what kind of relationship could we have when I wouldn’t even be able to tell him what job I do?”

Q stayed silent for a few long minutes, eating his baguette while watching Eve closely.  “You know, it’s not as impossible as you think.” he said finally.  “Look at M, his wife is a doctor and Tanner’s is a primary school teacher.  009’s soon to be husband is a builder for god sake and I’m sure 003’s boyfriend is a pharmacist.”

She murmured noncommittally.  “I suppose.”

“Ok, so you wouldn’t be able to tell him what you do straight away but you could further down the line.” he stopped to sip his tea.  “Did he ask what you do for a living?”

“I told him I was a PA; I just downplayed the importance of the organisation I work for.  That’s not too bad, is it?”

He shook his head.  “No, it’s not too bad.  You could’ve said worse.”

“True.”

“Do you really think you did the wrong thing?”

Eve shrugged.  “Maybe.  At the time I thought it was the best thing to do but then last night, I couldn’t sleep so I just lay there, thinking about it.  And then, to add insult to injury, he was in the sandwich shop just now.  He was just as lovely as he had been before, even though I turned him down, quite rudely actually.”

Q arched an eyebrow.  “Now some people, not me obviously because I don’t believe in such unscientific nonsense, but some people would say that it’s fate.”

“It’s probably nothing.” Eve murmured, grimacing.  “I mean, maybe it just made me realise how bloody lonely I am and how much time I spend in this place.”

“Maybe it’s nothing.  But maybe it’s something.  How will you know unless you try?”

She looked pensive as she took another sip of her water.  “So if I wanted to try, what would I do next?”

“I doubt I’m the best person to ask for advice.  I’m not exactly successful in this department myself but I am a world-class hacker.  Say the word and I can have his diary up on my screen in about two and a half minutes.” 

Smiling, Eve sat up, looking a little happier.  “I’ll get back to you on that.  Out of interest, why aren’t you successful in this department?”

“Terrible taste in men.” he said lightly.

Eve nodded.  “I think we all pick shitheads at some stage.”

He hummed quietly.  “Yes well, I seem to pick shitheads more often than not.  Not that I’ve really had many boyfriends but they’ve all turned out to be shitheads in the end.”

“Who knows, maybe you’ll meet a non-shithead soon.”

Q snorted inelegantly.  “With this job, not likely.”

Just then his laptop pinged; he glanced up to see a dialogue box telling him that 007 was on the comms waiting for him.  He rolled his eyes.

“What?” Eve asked as he pulled his headset out of his desk drawer and slipped it on.

“007.” he said by way of an explanation before turning on the two-way comms.

“Did you miss me, Q?” Bond drawled.

He grunted.  “Hardly.  I told you, you’ll have to be gone for much, much longer before I even _begin_ to miss you.” Eve made a strange sound in the back of her throat but he ignored her, pulling up a fresh window on his laptop.  “Now, I assume this isn’t a social call.  What do you want?”

“A flight home.”

“You’re finished?”

“The target is dead and I have the hard drive.”

“Good.” he replied shortly, tapping away at the keyboard as he organised Bond’s return flights.  “Done.  The earliest I could get was tomorrow morning, seven oh five, local time, you’ll be back in London at seven fifty three, GMT, barring any delays.  There will be a car waiting for you.  I’ll send you the details in a second.”

“Much obliged, Q.”

He grumbled and disconnected the call, sent the information Bond needed then pulled off the headset, dropping it onto the desk.

“He wrapped that up quickly.” Eve said offhandedly. 

Q didn’t reply, merely tucked into the rest of his lunch with gusto.

-

Bond got back just after nine the following morning, when Q was busy in R&D.

He swaggered in, sporting a new, and untreated, gash across his left cheek bone and several scrapes and bruises.

“You should be in medical.” he said flatly, setting down his soldering iron.

The agent hummed, making his way across the room, ignoring the frightened glances Jonathan kept shooting him.  “I was on my way but I thought I’d drop in on my Quartermaster first.”

“Liar.” he retorted, removing the heatproof gloves he was wearing.  “You should get that cut looked at.”

“It’s fine.” Bond said, waving his hand airily.  “I have some things for you.” he paused and delved into his trouser pocket, pulling something out and presenting it to him with a flourish.  “Here you go, slightly scratched but still in full working order.”

Q took the radio and earpiece gingerly, examining them before looking up.  “Where’s the gun?”

“Ah.  Now, Q I want you to remember that I did bring back the radio and the earpiece, relatively unscathed.”

He narrowed his eyes.  “Where is it?”

The older man sighed and pulled a cardboard box out of his inside coat pocket and held it out.

He snatched up the box and gave it a shake, wincing at the rattling of multiple pieces.  He opened the box and stared down at the shards of metal that once made up Bond’s Walther.  He looked up at the man in question.  “What the hell did you do to it?”

“I may have driven over it, in a jeep that I borrowed.”

Q growled.  “That gun is supposed to be about your person at all times, not lying in the bloody road where you can run over it in a _stolen_ jeep!!”

“I thought it _was_ about my person but I must’ve dropped it.  Anyway, surely this is better than nothing.”

Gritting his teeth, Q dropped the box on to the desk.  “Get out.”

Bond’s eyes widened in surprise.  “What?”

“I said get out.  Right now.” he snapped, pointing towards the door. 

“Come on, Q…”

“Out now!  Or you’ll be getting nothing but three toothpicks and a pack of Blutac for you next mission!”

Bond held up his hands.  “I’m going, I’m going.”

“And get your arse to medical!” he called after the agents retreating back.

He spent the rest of the day in R&D, ignoring the box full of broken gun in favour of tinkering with his prototype cufflinks, which were still giving him trouble.  He was beginning to think he might have to forgo the explosive element and concentrate on the garrotting wire he was planning on installing.  By late afternoon he’d had enough so he returned his office, picking up the box on the way. 

There was a small, posh looking box waiting for him on his desk.  He frowned and dropped down onto his desk chair, depositing the cardboard box containing the remains of Bond’s gun in his drawer before opening the box.  Inside was a perfectly formed chocolate cupcake, topped with a swirl of chocolate buttercream and white chocolate shards.  Q stared down at it for a long moment before he noticed the Post-It that was stuck to the underside of the lid, a note scrawled across it.

_Sorry - JB_

Q clicked his tongue and closed the lid, only to open it again a second later with a small smile on his face.  “Twat.” he muttered, lifting the cake out of the box before taking a bite.  Disappointingly it was delicious.


	6. It’s Currently Being Washed Down The Oued Issil

Q barely saw Bond for the next three weeks, not in person anyway.  The agent was working back to back missions, the majority of them were straight forward, his input wasn’t really needed so it was a little odd when he was back on comms, directing Bond through a bustling Moroccan souk. 

“Can’t you get any closer, Bond?”

“I’m trying, Q." the man huffed, keeping his burner phone pressed to his ear so as not to draw attention to himself.  "It’s a little difficult given the fact that half of Marrakesh seems to be here and going the same way I am.”

He didn’t reply as he switched to another window, his eyes immediately drawn to a man who appeared to be following Bond.  “It looks like you’ve acquired a tail.” as he the man pushed past someone, his stone coloured jacket opening slightly to reveal what looked to be a Beretta in a holster.  “He’s armed.  Bryony could you run the facial recognition software, please?”

“Yes sir.” the analyst replied, bringing up the program on the PC next to him.

Bond’s quarry stopped at a stall.  The agent stopped too, muttering a quiet apology to a woman who complained about his sudden halt, before feigning interest in the display of jewel coloured glass lanterns on the table.   The man stopped too a little way away.

“Definitely following you.” he muttered and glanced sideways at Bryony who was scrutinising the screen.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

He frowned, looking back at his own computer.  “I beg your pardon?”

“Your favourite colour, Q, what is it?” Bond reiterated, plucking up a beautiful, deep blue lantern.

Q tutted.  “Is now really the time, 007?”

The agent’s subsequent sigh was almost drowned out by the noise from the crowd raging around him.  “Yes, now’s the perfect time.”

“You should probably be concentrating on the mark you’re tailing or perhaps the man who’s tailing you.”

“I can multitask, Q.”

He snorted.  “Sure you can.”

“Come on, indulge me.”

Q sighed.  “It’s green."

The other man immediately set down the blue glass and picked up a green one.  “What do you think?”

“It’s pretty I suppose, but I don’t see what it has to do with the terrorist you’re supposed to be tailing.”

Bond ignored him and bartered in perfect Arabic with the stallholder before handing over some money, glancing seemingly casually in the direction of the man who was following him, while the old woman wrapped the lantern somewhat haphazardly.

Seconds later the man Bond was following took off, darting through the crowds.

Q cursed loudly as 007 headed after him, shoving his way between the tightly packed people.  “You just had to look, didn’t you?”

“What can I say?  I was curious.” his voice showing no strain despite the speed at which he was moving.

He rolled his eyes.  “Curiosity killed the cat.”

“Nabil Elbaz, sir.  He’s an associate of Mansouri.  He was involved with the assassination of Youssef Abbasi.” Bryony put in.

“Excellent.” he muttered, squinting at her screen.

“What?” Bond asked as he careered round a corner, knocking a huge basket of olives over, ignoring the squawks from the stallholder.

“Your new friend.  He was last seen holding a gun to the head of a highly important member of the Moroccan government.”

Bond grunted.

The chase continued through the souk, with Bond chasing Mansouri and Elbaz chasing Bond.  They started to go out of range.  “I’m losing you Bond.” he said briskly.  “Damn!” he spat as he lost all three men completely.  “007, what’s happening?”

“Bit busy at the moment, Q.” his voice still not betraying the effort he must’ve been putting in.

He huffed.  “Please remember that we need to know what he knows, so for once think before you shoot.”

“Of course, Quartermaster.”

Q harrumphed.  “I need to see what’s happening.  Can anyone find anything we can use?” his team buzzed around him desperately.  “I’m trying to get eyes on, Bond.  Until I do, you’re on your own.”

There was no reply, just the huff of 007’s breath as he, no doubt, raced through the streets of Marrakech.

The minutes passed by with almost every member of Q-Branch scouring the area looking for something they could hack into, Q had a feeling it was futile, he’d searched the area thoroughly before the mission and as far as he knew, he’d hacked everything hackable already.  Suddenly there was a burst of gunfire, followed by a loud crunching sound and a screech of feedback and then they lost comms as well as the visual link.

“007?  Are you there?  Bond?” there was nothing, absolutely nothing.  “Shit!” he bit out, his heart thundering in his ears.  “Shit, shit, shit!!”

Everyone went silent, waiting with bated breath for some sign that 007 was ok.  Q stood frozen, as the seconds ticked by.  He dimly registered a tinkling sound that started up after about ten minutes but he paid it no mind, until R nudged him.

“I think that’s your phone, Q.”

He pulled the device out of his trouser pocket.  ‘Unknown number’ flashed on the screen.  He jabbed at the answer icon with clumsy fingers and pressed the phone to his ear automatically. 

“Mine’s grey.” the caller stated before Q could say anything.

Q let out a breath that he hadn’t even realised he was holding.  “W-what?” he stuttered.

“My favourite colour, honestly Q, keep up.”

He growled.  “What the bloody hell happened?”

“Lost my earpiece.  I think someone stepped on it.”

Huffing, he stepped over to a stool and sank down onto it.  “Mansouri?”

“Dead.  So is his friend.  And before you ask, I got the information.  I know where the bomb is and I’m going after it.  Oh and I could do with a new gun.”

“What?  What happened to the other one?”

“It’s currently being washed down the Oued Issil.”

He sighed heavily, his relief at Bond’s continued survival giving way to irritation.  “For god sake!  And you wonder why I don’t give you the exciting tech.”

Bond chuckled warmly.

“I’ll see what I can do.” Q muttered grudgingly, already wondering who he can talk into delivering a new gun to Marrakech.

A week later there was a parcel waiting for him when he got home. The box was medium sized and covered in ‘Fragile’ and ‘Handle with care’ stickers. His address was scrawled across a sticky label in familiar handwriting. Inside, carefully wrapped in bubble wrap, tissue paper and surrounded by polystyrene peanuts, was the Moroccan lantern Bond had bought from the souk.


	7. Sure, Q, Let’s Get Dinner

Their talks became a regular thing, whenever they were on comms, they exchanged questions about their favourite things, from food and music to places they’d visited. 

He learned that Bond’s favourite food was dim sum; he liked listening to jazz music though he didn’t mind The Beatles, predictably he enjoyed watching action movies and his favourite place in the world was London.  He in turn told Bond that he liked Indian food and pasta, he preferred classical music with a little classic rock thrown in and his favourite place was Cambridge.  The weeks passed and turned into months and Q rather got used to it.  It was sort of nice, if slightly unconventional, though they steered clear of more personal subjects.  And then he let slip his love of Harry Potter.

“They’re children’s books, Q, even I know that.” Bond teased.

“I don’t care.” he replied.  “I love them.  JK Rowling is on a par with the Queen, as far as I’m concern.”

Bond laughed.  “Don’t let M hear you say that.”

Q laughed along with him, stopping abruptly when there was movement on the CCTV feed he was watching.  “Car heading your way, 007.”

There was a shuffling noise.  “Is it him?”

“Hang on a tick.” he switched to another view point and watched a figure emerge from the car.  “It’s him.”

Bond grumbled his acknowledgement as more people got out of the car.

He cursed loudly.  “Bond, he’s not alone.” this was not in the plan.  The target had always been alone at the house, always.  Until then.  Of course, it could just be a coincidence but a tip-off was more likely.

“Why not?”

He rolled his eyes.  “How should I know?”

“How many?”

“Four others.  And another car just pulled up.” he hesitated, almost holding his breath while more men climbed out of the second car.  “Eight all together.  You’re going to have to go in there.”

“Goodie.”

“You don’t have to sound so pleased about it.” Q muttered disapprovingly.  Death came with the job, he’d known that when he took it, death of both targets and agents, though he’d yet to lose an agent, for which he was incredibly glad.  Still, he liked to know or at least suspect when a mission would result in multiple deaths, that way he could prepare the paperwork and such, but this one was supposed to have no collateral damage whatsoever.   

“I’ve been waiting for days, Q.” Bond whined.  “I want this over with.  I’m sick of this house and this country.”

“South Africa is beautiful, apparently.”

“Not where I am, it isn’t.”

With a tut he bought up another window, which showed the CCTV feeds from inside the house that he’d hacked into earlier.  “They’re going in.  When they’re all inside you can have at it.”

“Can’t wait.”

He made a quiet noise of disgust, eying the screen as the last of the men went into the house.  “Alright.  It looks like they’re arming themselves so I’d say they know you’re coming.  I’ll leave the comms on but I’m not going to keep watching the CCTV.”

For the next few minutes, shouting and gunshots filled his ears.  Q listened impassively, already running through the amount of clean up and paperwork he was going to have to organise.  Finally the gunfire gave way to silence.  He couldn’t even hear Bond breathing.  “007?  007 report?” there was no reply.  He reopened the CCTV feed with a little difficulty thanks to his fingers which had decided to be uncooperative.  The agent was standing in the sitting room, hunched over slightly, one hand clutching his side while dead bodies littered the floor around his feet.  “Bond?”

Suddenly Bond drew a rattling breath which made Q shiver.  “Target eliminated.”

“Are you…do you need a medical evac?”

“Just a flesh wound, Q.” the other man muttered, slipping off his suit jacket to reveal a patch of red which was growing rapidly, far too rapidly for Q’s liking.

Q watched as Bond pressed a hand to his side and winced, his hand coming away drenched in bright red blood.  The amount of it scared him.  Without saying anything, he scrambled the evac team, ignoring the slight shake in his hands.  “They’re on their way, 007.  Should be there in about ten minutes.” he said after he’d taken a few calming breaths.

Bond hummed, moving slightly clumsily to a nearby chair.  “I’m ok.”

“You’re a fucking liar, Bond.”

He let out a bark of laughter.  “Such language.”

“Sorry, 007 have I offended your old fashioned sensibilities?” he quipped lightly.

“Hm.  Nice boy like you shouldn’t be using language like that.”

Q snorted.  “Boy?  I think you’ll find I’m a man.  And as for nice, whatever gave you that idea?”

Bond laughed and then groaned loudly.  “That hurt.”

His eyes darted to the screen displaying a satellite picture which showed the position of the evac team.  “They won’t be long, just a few more minutes.”

“Are you worried about me, Q?”

“Hardly.  I’m more worried about what will happen to my equipment if you die.” he tried to sound flippant but failed.  His voice was far too high pitched, even to his own ears.

“You’re all heart, darling.”

He jumped a little at the endearment.  “Darling?” he croaked.  “Are we at the pet name stage of our friendship already?” Bond laughed wheezily.  “Because if we are, I can make a compelling case for Twat or perhaps Arrogant Bastard.”

“Be nice.  I’m injured.” Q stayed quiet, watching uneasily as the agent undid his tie before pulling of his shirt and bundling it up against the wound.  “What about the films?” Bond asked suddenly.

Q was lost.  “I’m sorry?”

“Harry Potter.” he murmured through gritted teeth.  “You like the books, do you like the films too?”

He knew Bond was going for a distraction so he played along.  “I prefer the books to be honest but then film versions are never as good.”

“If you say so.”

“I do and I’m usually right.”

Bond chuckled.  “And you call me arrogant.”

He spent the next few minutes extolling the virtues of books over film versions of books, stopping only when the medical evac team turned up. 

“This is Captain Findley of the medical evacuation division; we have arrived at 007’s location.”

“This is Q.  I know, I have eyes on.  Could I have a status update when you’ve assessed him?”

Q watched as they examined Bond who looked like he was being as difficult as possible.  He rolled his eyes.  “They are trying to help, 007.  Let them do their jobs.”

Bond made a grumbling sound but otherwise ignored him.

“It looks to be just a graze.  It’ll probably need stitches.” Captain Findley said after a few minutes.

“See, I told you, Q.”

His heart slowed a little though his hands still shook.  “You’ll forgive me if I didn’t believe you.”

Q watched for a little longer before signing off and leaving Bond in the medical team’s capable hands.  He ignored his team’s inquiring looks and retreated to his office, all but collapsed into his desk chair and pulled off his glasses, scrubbing his fists over his eyes.  That had been the most scared he’d ever felt whilst on the comms, he had honestly thought Bond had been killed.  Even now, though he knew the agent was ok, his chest still felt tight, like he couldn’t breathe properly.  That scared him.  And the fact that he’d felt _so_ scared, absolutely terrified him.

When he got to work the following day, he found a slightly scratched Walther, a radio and an earpiece waiting for him on his desk, along with a note from M informing him that 007 was back and being patched up in medical.  For the first time in about twelve hours he felt like he could breathe. 

Bond strode in just as he finished writing up his section of the mission report. 

“Shouldn’t you be in medical?” he asked, eying the agent over the top of his computer screen.

“They said I can go home.”

He tapped another sentence into the report before replying.  “Then I suggest you do just that, 007.” the older man ignored him and came further into the office, lowering himself into the spare chair.  “Or you could just invite yourself into my office.”

Bond smirked but otherwise didn’t reply, instead he settled further into his chair.

Q ignored him for the most part and concentrated on his report.  007 seemed content to sit in silence, intermittently watching him work and fiddling with his phone.  At least his presence stopped various interns coming in to pester him with questions.  At quarter to seven he packed up and ran through the hand-over with the night staff before pulling on his parka.  He eyed Bond, who got to his feet somewhat gingerly.

“Do you…” he started, hesitating as he hoisted his satchel onto his shoulder.  “…would you like to get some dinner?”

“Dinner?”

Q shuffled his feet.  “Yes.  Um…friends get dinner together, so I’m told.”

Bond smiled.  “Sure, Q, let’s get dinner.”

They ended up sitting across from each other at a small table in an Italian restaurant in Holborn.  It felt a little too cosy for Q’s liking and every so often he intercepted the speculative glances various women were shooting the man opposite him, it was unnerving to say the least.

“Are you aware of the fact that there are at least six different women looking at you, right now?” he asked, taking a sip of his mineral water.

Bond raised his eyebrows and leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, his shoulders hunching slightly.  “She’s not.” he murmured, nodding at someone over Q’s shoulder.  “She’s looking at you.”

He hummed.  “If she is, she’s barking up the wrong tree.”

Just then the waiter came over and took their order, Q decided on ravioli while Bond chose lamb cutlets.  Once the waiter had gone, they chatted about the various goings on in Q-Branch and exactly how much the agent had disliked South Africa.  They talked and talked, only stopping when their food arrived. 

It was rather nice to be out; he rarely had dinner anywhere other than his own kitchen or, more often than not, his office.  It made a nice change and the company wasn’t bad either, even if it did feel overly intimate.

“Will you tell me what your sister’s like now?” 007 asked after a short while.

He raised his eyebrows, spearing a piece of ravioli with his fork.  “Why are you so interested?”

“Curiosity.”

“You remember what happened the last time you gave in to curiosity?”

Bond smirked.  “Well, I don’t see anyone here who’s about to chase me through a marketplace and then try and shoot me with my own gun.”

“Just give me time.” 007 laughed quietly at that.  Q popped the ravioli into his mouth and chewed slowly, pondering this new line of more personal questioning.  He’d tried before, obviously, when they’d been walking to Q’s house but this time he couldn’t use tiredness as an excuse.  It was different but then again it was probably just the logical progression in their weird friendship.  “She’s much like me really.”

“Do you look alike?”

He shrugged.  “Yes, same dark hair and green eyes and the same pathetically pale skin tone.  She doesn’t need glasses though but that’s probably because she doesn’t spend hours looking at computer screens.” he paused, smiling slightly as he thought of Holly.  “She’s more outgoing than I am, louder.  She can strike up a conversation with anyone.  She’s funny and warm and a little short tempered sometimes and incredibly blunt, she says what she thinks, always.  And she used to badger me almost constantly about my non-existent love life.” he looked down at glass and sighed.  “Of course, since I started at Six I don’t get to see her much.”

“You miss her.” Bond surmised.

He hummed.  “Yes, I do.”

“You should take a day off, go and see her.”

“You know, most of us can’t just disappear whenever they feel like it.”

Bond smiled.  “I’m sure the minions could manage without you for one day, besides you work too hard.”

Q rolled his eyes but otherwise ignored the nickname he’d no doubt picked up from Eve.  “That’s rich coming from you, 007.”

The other man laughed harshly.  “True but I’m still right.”

“Is it my turn now?”

“Your turn to what?”

“Ask a question.”

Bond shrugged.  “Fire away.”

“Ok, where did you grow up?”

“You already know that.”

Q hummed softly.  “Yes but I’d much rather hear it from you, if that’s ok.” he gave him an out on purpose.  He certainly doesn’t want the agent to feel like he’d been backed into a corner and forced to answer.

The other man took a long while to answer, eating forkfuls of his meal in the meantime.  “Scotland.”

“Was it nice there?”

He shrugged.  “It was ok, most people call it beautiful and I suppose it is, in a way.  We had an estate, the house sat right in the middle of the moor.  It had a family chapel and a loch and acres of woodland.  I always hated it, right from when I was a child.  I was convinced it was haunted.”

Q smiled.  “I’ve seen pictures, it looked…lonely.”

“It was.  Of course, I was only there for weekends and school holidays mostly, my parents were usually busy during the day, so I spent most of my time in the grounds with Kincade.  He taught me how to hold a shot gun and shoot and track animals.”

“Kincade?  He’s the one who helped you when…” he broke off as Bond nodded.

“Yes, silly old fool.  He called me a ‘jumped up little shit’ when I tried to stop him.”

“He had a point.” Q smirked. 

Bond huffed.  “Again with the rudeness, I thought we were passed all that, Q.” 

“Your turn, I think.”

The other man looked up, his blue eyes glistening in the warm lamps that lit the restaurant.  “Ok then, where were you bought up?”

“Hardly original, 007.”

Bond shrugged.  “Yes, but unlike you, I don’t know the answer to my question.”

Q made a low noise and took a sip of his drink.  He didn’t talk about his childhood with anyone, not even Holly who’d been through it with him.  But Bond had been honest; the least he could do was return the favour.  “All over really.  We lived here in London to begin with and then when we were ten years old, our mother was killed in a car accident.”

“I’m sorry.”

He looked down, pushing his food around his bowl.  “Why?  You didn’t kill her.  I’ve never understood why people say sorry when they hear that someone’s died.  It never made any sense to me.”

“Me neither.  It’s just what they say to make themselves feel better, probably.”

“Hmm.  Our dad left when mum told him she was pregnant and her parents had been dead for a few years, she was an only child and she didn’t really have friends close enough to consider taking care of her ten year old twins, so we were put into care.”

“That must’ve been hard.”

“It was but we had each other.  We were lucky, we got moved around a lot but we never got split up.”

Bond looked pensive.  “I suppose that’s why you’re so close.”

“Yes.  We lived in various care homes until we were eighteen and old enough to move out.  We got jobs as soon as we could and saved up so we could rent a flat.  Holly’s a social worker now, she looks after children who’re in the same position we were.  She’s very good, one of the best.  Then again, I am somewhat biased.” 

“Like I said before, you should go and see her.” 

Q hummed.  “Maybe.  Anyway, perhaps we should talk about something lighter.”

They talked about lighter topics while they finished their food.  Bond insisted on paying, despite Q’s protestations.  They shared a cab and after a brief disagreement, headed towards Bond’s hotel first.  He fought hard for it.  He wasn’t sure why the agent had been so difficult, he was the injured party not Q and he’d started wincing when he thought Q wasn’t looking.

He only noticed the blue cashmere scarf, lying on the seat beside him, once the taxi pulled up outside his house.


	8. Is It Dickhead Day Or Something?!

M was waiting for him when he got to work the next day.

Everything had seemed normal when he’d arrived and made his tea but then he’d got to his office and found his boss, sitting in _his_ desk chair, a brown mission file on the desk in front of him.

“Good morning, Q.”

Q felt immediately wrong-footed.  “Sir, can I help you?”

M didn’t reply, merely picked up the file and held it out to him.

He scanned the label on the front and frowned.  “You’re sending 007 out again?  You are aware that he got shot the other day, aren’t you?”

“It was just a graze, Q.”

“Oh, that’s alright then.” he muttered sarcastically.

M frowned.  “I know it’s not ideal but unfortunately, Bond is the only agent available who has the necessary experience and skillset.”

“Well, can’t it wait until someone else is available?”

“No, it can’t.  Take a look.”

He flipped open the file, his eyes immediately drawn to the words ‘human trafficking’ and ‘children’.  Q grimaced.  “I see.”

“Hm.  He’ll be leaving at thirteen hundred hours; I trust you can have his equipment ready before then.”

“Of course, sir.  I’ll get started right away.”

“Thank you, Quartermaster.” M nodded and left.

Barely thirty seconds after, R strode in, looking cautious.  “What did the big boss man want?”

“007 is heading out later on today.”

She raised her eyebrows.  “Already?”

“Hmm.  Unavoidable.  I need to get his equipment ready.  I’ll probably be in R&D for most of the morning, would you mind sorting tickets to Lesotho.”

R nodded.  “Which airport?”

“Maseru.”

“Should I organise his hotel reservations as well?”

“If that’s ok.”

“Of course.  I’ll let you know if we run into any problems.”

Q smiled gratefully.  “Thank you, R.”

It didn’t take him that long to gather the equipment, the earpiece, Walther and radio Bond had bought back the day before were in full working order, so all he had to sort was the extra tech.  He knew it was probably entirely too sentimental to throw a load of new equipment at Bond, just because he was injured but he put it down to the fact that he _had_ bought back the majority of his tech a couple of times and that was a miracle in itself, besides he was Q after all and the allocation of equipment was his decision.

When 007 came to collect his equipment a few hours later, Q was supervising Katie who was outfitting Junior Agent Darrow for his first solo mission.  He left the technician to finish up and led Bond to his office before handing over his usual equipment.

“You’re lucky you bought everything back from South Africa, otherwise I’d have nothing to give you.” he said as the agent took the case from him and tucked it into his coat.

Bond smirked.  “You wouldn’t have sent me out with nothing, would you Q?”

“Well, you’ll never know will you.” he paused and handed him the envelope containing his passport, tickets and hotel reservations.  “I actually have a few other things to give you.”

The other man raised his eyebrows.  “Oh yes.”

“Hmm.” he picked up another box and opened it.  “Cufflinks, with a built in garrotting wire.  They were the explosive cufflinks I told you about but I couldn’t get it to work properly, so I got rid of it and went with the wire instead.” he eased a cufflink out of the box as he spoke.  “To deploy it you just pull the toggle firmly and the wire should extend from the main body.” he gave the agent a brisk demonstration before handing them over, watching Bond try is as he picked up the next box.  “It’s the first time they’ve been taken into the field so I would be grateful for some feedback.”

“Naturally.” Bond smirked.

Q made a soft noise in the back of his throat.  “This is a tie pin cum sedative dart.  To engage the dart, you have to twist the head of the pin and then press it down to deploy.  The assailant will be knocked out for an hour or so, depending on their build.  Do try not to sedate yourself accidentally.”

Bond chuckled and shook his head.  “Give me some credit, Q.”

He tutted and reached for the last box, pulling the lid off and taking the contents out.  “Here’s your new watch.  It’s an Omega Seamaster 300.”

Bond tucked the tie pin box into his inside pocket and took the watch.  “Does it do anything?”

“It tells the time.” he smirked.  “But do be careful with the alarm.  It’s rather loud.” the agent hummed, looking unconvinced as he strapped the watch to his wrist.  “By the looks of the building schematics, you’re going to need some direction; it’s like a rabbit warren so I’ll be on the comms with you.  Obviously you’ll know more when you get there so we’ll pin down the timeline then.”

“The ringleader sounds like a nasty piece of work.”

“Yes, a bastard by all accounts so I recommend exercising caution.”

“Q, when I don’t I exercise caution?”

He ignored that particular question.  “Please take care of the equipment.”

“I’ll do my best, as always.”

Q snorted loudly.  “If bringing your gun home in more than twenty pieces is your idea of doing your best, I’d hate to see your worst.”

-

He spent the next three days following Bond’s every move via the various CCTV feeds he’d hacked, it was necessary because of the scale of organisation they were dealing with.  They spoke at least once a day, trading questions once again.  They were markedly more personal now, talking about childhood memories and various other things, though they also discussed the mission a little and decided on the best day to target the base the trafficking ring were using.

Q sat waiting for Bond to come online, sipping from his mug of hot tea while he went over the building plans again.  The comms room was buzzing, he was at his usual station, his handling team with him, while Katie was at the next station handling Darrow’s mission with her team. 

He gulped some tea and glanced at his watch, there were only ten minutes until Bond checked in and his work really began. 

“What is he doing?” someone on the other side of the room said loudly.

He glanced round as everyone on that half of the room started muttering.

Katie pressed her fingers to her headset.  “Agent Darrow?  No, no, no!  What the hell are you doing?” she waited but Darrow clearly wasn’t responding.  “For fuck sake Darrow, answer me!”

“Katie?  What’s wrong?” he asked, flicking his eyes towards his own screen before looking back at the analyst.

The redhead looked up at him.  “It’s Agent Darrow sir, I think he’s about to try and diffuse a bomb and he’s just taken out his earpiece.”

“What?” he spluttered, getting to his feet.  “Peter, keep an eye on 007’s monitor please.” he was already heading towards the opposite station as he spoke.  “Talk to me.”

“It was going smoothly; he got into the building with no surprises.  He took care of a couple of security guards, then during his sweep of the building he found the bomb.  He said he’d seen one like it before and he was sure he could defuse it.” as she spoke he switched to a different view point, reeling through his mental library of explosive devices until he identified the one Agent Darrow had discovered, it wasn’t good.  “I tried to talk him out of it but he wouldn’t listen, so I told him I’d get someone to talk him through it and then he took out his earpiece.” she looked back at the screen as she spoke.  “Now he’s got the side off and is poking at the wires.”

“So I see.” Q muttered, his fingers flying over the keyboard in front of him as he hacked into the tannoy system the building thankfully had.  It took him seconds.  “I wouldn’t touch that if I were you.” he drawled into the microphone.

Darrow froze and looked frantically around the room like an idiot, as if he expected Q to appear from nowhere.  “Q?  What are…?”

“I’m stopping you from blowing yourself and everyone within a five mile radius to high heaven.” he replied flatly, cutting across the agent.

The so-called agent frowned and looked back at the bomb.  “I can do this, Q.  I’ve seen something like this before.  I don’t need…”

Q interrupted him again.  “Clearly you do because if you break that connection, everyone in your vicinity will die and that includes a school full of two hundred and fifty seven children.”

The other man hesitated then, his eyes darting between the bomb and the corner he knew Q was watching from.  “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m fucking sure!!”

“Sir, 007 is approaching the rendezvous point; he’ll be online in less than five minutes.” Peter said from across the room.

“What…what do I do, Q?  I don’t know what to do.” Darrow asked urgently.

Q sighed, pushing his glasses up and pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.  “I need to talk Darrow through this, Katie we’ll have to switch.”

Katie looked more than a little terrified.  “You want me to direct 007?”

“Yes, it’s the only option we have.” he paused and looked her right in the eye.  “It’ll be fine, ok.  Everything is written down.  Just give him the directions and keep an eye out for any guards.”

She nodded determinedly. “Right.”

They swapped headsets and Katie headed over to the other station to wait for Bond to come online while Q transferred all of the feeds to his laptop.  “I’ll be in my office, I need quiet.  Don’t disturb me unless it’s absolutely necessary.  Darrow, do not touch one single bloody thing until I say so!”

It took him over forty minutes to talk the agent through diffusing the bomb, it should’ve taken half that but Darrow had to stop every few minutes to have miniature panic attacks, as if he hadn’t been willing to do it alone not half an hour before.  By the time he’d finished, Q was almost apoplectic.

“I suggest you get to the evac point, Agent Darrow.” he growled angrily.  “And I warn you now; I shall be speaking to M about this.”

“Yes, Q.” Darrow replied meekly.

He disconnected and pulled off his glasses, throwing them onto the desk before rubbing his eyes roughly.  He very nearly gave into the urge to bash his head against his desk and probably would’ve done it if it weren’t for his pounding headache.  He didn’t know what the Junior Agent had been thinking.  He’d shown so much promise during his paired missions and then the second he was out on his own, he almost fucked up entirely.  It could probably be put down to a rookie agent’s over eagerness to prove himself but being down right reckless was not the way to go about it.  Not even the Double Oh’s would’ve attempted to defuse a bomb like that without back up.

Suddenly his office door was shoved open.  “Q, you’d better get out here.”

He fumbled to put his glasses back on.  “Eve?  What’s going on?” 

“Bond.  He’s being an arsehole and…” she broke off and looked away, back into the comms room.  “Twat.” she muttered before turning back to him.  “Apparently he’s just taken out his earpiece.”

“Oh for fuck sake!!  What the hell is going on?” he spat, storming out of his office with Eve at his heels.  “Did I miss a memo?  Is it Dickhead Day or something?!”

Katie was tearing her hair out while the rest of Q-Branch looked on.  “007 is an arsehole!” she spat when she caught sight of him, ripping off her headset and hurling it onto the bench.  “He’s been a complete dick since I started directing him, questioning my orders and doing the complete opposite of what I tell him, going right when I say left and climbing down a fucking lift shaft when I told him to just take the stairs!  And he’s been asking for you the entire time, even though I told him you were dealing with an emergency!”

There was a loud hacking cough from behind him, though when he turned round Eve was smiling innocently.  He shot her a sharp glare before turning back to the monitors. 

“Now he’s taken out his fucking earpiece!” the redhead continued, sounding more irate by the minute.

“007 is a twat, this isn’t news.  In fact he seems incapable of behaving in any other manner.” he said soothingly.  “Now, why don’t you go and take a break.”

“I’m fine Q, really.” Katie protested.

He smiled softly.  “Katie, take a break.  We’ll be fine for now.”

She looked like she wanted to protest but thought better of it; instead she nodded and left the room.

“I assume we still have tracking on 007.” he said to the room in general.

Bryony was the first to reply.  “Yes, sir.”

“Good, keep an eye on it for me.”

“A-aren’t you going to try and re-establish contact?” Ethan, one of the interns, asked timidly.

“No.  If 007 wants to be a prick, we’ll let him be a prick.  I’m sure he’ll be in touch when he wants something.” he paused and turned away from the monitors.  “Chelsea, could I borrow you for a second?”

“Of course.”

He led her into his office and retrieved the blue cashmere scarf from the second drawer down in his desk.  “Could you take this to lost property for me?”

She looked confused but nodded, taking the scarf and heading out of the room.

Eve was standing just inside his office, her eyebrows were raised pointedly.   “Wasn’t that…”

“Yes.” he replied curtly, cutting across her.  “He shouldn’t be a dick to my team, should he?  What can I do for you anyway, Miss Moneypenny?”

“I bought lunch.” she said, lifting up the paper bags she was holding and waving them enticingly at him.

He hummed.  “Well in that case, you can stay.”

“Much obliged.” she grinned and strode forwards, handing him one bag before settling into the chair opposite. “So what’s been going on down here?”

Sighing heavily, he opened his bag and peered inside, pulling out the contents.  “I really don’t know.  First of all I had Darrow almost blowing up an entire neighbourhood and now Bond being a total shit to my best handler.  There must be something in the water.”

“In Lesotho _and_ Estonia?  Hm, seems unlikely.”

He hummed, unwrapping a delicious looking bacon and cheese bagel.  “Unlikely but not entirely impossible.”

She smiled, removing a box of salad from her own bag.  “What happened with Darrow?”

“Oh, he decided that he was capable of diffusing a bomb so complex and volatile that even 007 wouldn’t attempt alone.”

Eve shot him a disbelieving look.  “Ah.  That’s a shame; I thought he was doing well.”

“Me too.  I’m going to have to speak to M about him.  If I hadn’t intervened, we’d have an international incident on our hands.”

She made a noise in the back of her throat, spearing a piece of butternut squash with her plastic fork.  “Any more clues vis-à-vis the Bond situation?”

“Nope but then I haven’t given it much more thought.”

“Well I have.”

“The floor is yours.” he said, smirking.

Eve grinned.  “Thank you kindly.  Ok, I want you to listen and not get all uppity.”

“I do not get uppity!!”

“You’re getting uppity now.” she pointed out.

“I am not!!”

“Oh hush.  As I was saying, I’ve given it some thought and the only explanation I can come up with is he likes you.”

“Well, we are friendly.” he said slowly.  “I mean, we’re friends so…”

She interrupted him, shaking her head.  “I don’t mean like that.  I mean, I think he _fancies_ you.”

He very nearly choked on a bit of bacon, coughing and spluttering, he picked up the bottle of water she’d bought him and took a sip, his eyes streaming.  Meanwhile Eve sat opposite him, smirking smugly.  “W-what?” he croaked, wiping his eyes.

She smiled somewhat evilly.  “You heard.”

Q huffed.  “We are talking about the same person, aren’t we?  007, James Bond, the straightest man in the world, the man who practically bleeds heterosexuality.”

“I’m well aware of who we’re talking about, Q.  It explains everything, the hanging around, the lunches, tea, the constant flirting…”

“He flirts with everyone…” he pointed out.  “…he can’t help it.  It gets to the point where I don’t think he even knows he’s doing it.”

“Oh, he knows he’s flirting with you, Q.” she replied, raising her eyebrows at him.  “So how do you explain him asking for you just now?”

“That’s just Bond being a cock.” he muttered, taking a bite of his bagel.  He chewed and swallowed before speaking again.  “You’re wrong, by the way.  He doesn’t ‘fancy me’, as you put it, and I have no interest in him, beyond a friendly, professional relationship.”

“Come on, you must fancy him a bit, everyone does.”

“Yes well, I don’t.  He is most definitely not my type.” even as he spoke he wasn’t entirely sure that was true.  There was something compelling about him but he couldn’t put his finger on what.

Eve looked unconvinced.  “If you say so.”

“I do say so.  Can we please change the subject now?”

Q kept half an eye on Bond’s tracking throughout the day, he remained in the area of Maseru that he was supposed to be in so he wasn’t too worried and he knew that he’d be in touch when it suited him.  Sure enough, Q’s headset, that he’d completely forgotten he was wearing, crackled into life when he was packing up for the night.

“Q, are you there?” Bond asked quietly.

Q sighed.  “Ahh, 007.  Talking to us again, are you?”

“About that…”

He continued as if the agent hadn’t said anything.  “Just for the record 007, I don’t appreciate you behaving like a twat towards my team.  We are here to assist you, not for you to ignore and verbally abuse.”

“Q…”

“I assume you’ve completed your objective.” he said crisply, bringing up a fresh window so he could arrange Bond’s flight home.

“Yes, the children are with the authorities and Tau is dead.”

“Good.  I’ll send you your flight information shortly.  Goodnight, 007.”

“Hang on Q, I…”

He terminated the call and pulled off the headset, tossing it onto the bench while confirming Bond’s flights before sending the agent the necessary information and quickly informing M that 007 had completed his objective and would be on his way back.  With that all done he said goodbye to the night staff and left, intent on getting home at a decent hour for once.


	9. I Was Thinking Cheese And Ham Omlettes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go wrong, dinner is had and Q has interesting dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is unbetaed so all mistakes belong to me, unfortunately the characters don't. Please read and leave comments/kudos if you want to x x

Everything went to shit the next day.

It started off normally enough.  Q got to work after a proper night’s sleep and went to see M first thing to discuss Darrow’s near miss.  His boss was of the opinion that Darrow had been over enthusiastic and desperate to prove himself, Q was of the opinion that Darrow was an idiot.  But they both agreed on the two month grounding and the paired missions for the foreseeable future.

The comms room was busy when he got back, most of the analysts and interns were focussed on the final stages of 002’s mission, she’d been undercover for the past three months and the end date had finally arrived.  The last task was fairly simple; retrieve a memory card containing the blueprints for a chemical bomb from an office which, as her surveillance had proved, would be deserted.  He wasn’t involved much himself, R was heading the handling team; though as planned 002 had been on radio silence for the majority of the time.  Despite his lack of involvement, he hung around comms, dividing his attention between the screens and some paperwork.

Everything was going smoothly until it wasn’t.  Q had just finished drawing up the weapons paperwork for 009’s upcoming mission when all hell broke loose.

“Shit!  Shit!  002?  What’s happening?!” R yelped sharply, making Q’s head snap up, his stomach dropping at the sight of the panic on the blonde’s face.  “002 report!  Report!!”

He was on his feet and at her side, reaching for a spare headset before he’d had the time to make a conscious decision.  “What happened?” he asked tersely, ramming the headset onto his head as the sound of gunshots filled his ears.

“I-I’m not sure…” R said faintly.  “…there was gunfire and someone shouting in Russian.  I…”

“002?  This is Q.  002, report please.” he said loudly and clearly.  “002?  Josie?  Report.” then just as quickly as the noise had started, it stopped leaving behind the sound of laboured breathing.

“002?” R asked immediately.

There was a loud rattling breath.  “I’m down.  They were waiting.”

“Medical evac, now!” Q barked to the room in general, there was a burst of frantic activity to his left.

“002, are you safe?” R inquired quietly.  “Is there…”

“All dead.” the agent wheezed before breaking off and letting out a wet sounding cough.  “Hurts.”

Q made a noise in the back of his throat.  “Where are you hit?”

“S-stomach.  Chest.  Blood ev’rywhere.” she choked out.

He swallowed hard.  “Are you able to apply pressure to the wounds?”

“T-trying.  Hurts.”   

“How far away is the medical evac?” he bit out.

Someone to his left answered.  “Fifteen minutes, sir.”

Q cursed loudly.  She didn’t have fifteen minutes.

“Q?” the agent breathed softly.

“I’m here, 002.” he replied.

002 drew a rattling breath.  “Not gonna b’here in time, are they?” she mumbled, her words slurring together.

He wanted to lie and make the agent feel better but he doubted she’d appreciate that.  “No, they’re not.  I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.  S’not your fault.” she broke off and coughed.  “Got the card.”

“That’s good, well done.”

The agent hummed.  “Talk t’me.”

“What about?"

“Anything.”

“Um…ok.” he paused, casting around for something to say.  “Well, I’m pissed off with Bond.”

Her laugh was cut off by another wet sounding cough.  “What’d he do this time?”

“The usual, been completely reckless and ignored instructions.”

“He’sa dick.”

He hummed in agreement.

“S’cold.” she broke off and let out a loud hacking cough, which was quickly followed by a long rattling breath.  “M’scared.”

Q glanced helplessly at R who looked as sick as he felt.  “It’s-it’s going to be ok, Josie.”

“Will…I be…going t’hell?” she asked haltingly.

“Absolutely not.” he replied, trying to swallow past the lump in his throat.  “The amount of lives you’ve saved far outweighs the number of people you’ve killed to save those lives.”

“You…think?”

“Of course.  If not then I’ll be joining you there, we’ll have a party.”

She let out a hum which quickly turned into an awful gurgling, bubbling sound which turned his stomach.  And then there was nothing. 

“002?” he whispered.  “Josie?  Report?”

There was complete silence around him as he carried on calling for the agent, even though he, and everyone else, knew it was futile, until they saw the medical evacuation team arrive on the satellite. 

Soon after that a call came through.  “Captain Findley of the medical evacuation division.”

“This is Q, please continue.” he replied, desperately trying to keep hold of his professionalism.  He could go to pieces later, and probably would, but he needed to stay on task.

“We have arrived at 002’s location.  I can confirm that 002 is deceased.  We will be leaving shortly.”

“Right.  The agent…the agent has a memory card in her possession, please ensure it is secure.  I will inform M and he’ll contact you directly regarding your ETA.”

“I will Quartermaster.  Over and out.”  

Q pulled off his headset and bought up the mission log and entered the update into the system.

MISSION OBJECTIVE: COMPLETE

AGENT DOWN.  002, AGENT JOSIE HARRIGAN, CONFIRMED DECEASED 

With that done he turned, taking in the shocked expressions of his colleagues.  “Everyone take five minutes.” he muttered, heading towards his office.  “I’m going to call M.”

“I can do that, Q.” R called after him.

He shook his head.  “No, it should be me.”

Striding into his office, he slammed the door behind him and fell back against the frosted glass, squeezing his eyes shut.  He couldn’t quite believe how quickly the shit had hit the fan, one minute everything had been fine and the next an agent was dead.  The very first agent who’d died on his watch since he’d taken the job.  He felt sick, his stomach turning over and over.  He wasn’t an idiot, he’d known when he had accepted Q what it entailed but having it actually happen, especially during the very last stage of a long mission, was gut wrenching.

Sucking in a deep breath, he pushed himself away from the door and staggered over to his desk, dropping into his chair before pulling the desk phone towards him.  Q dialled the number that would connect him directly to M which was only to be used in emergencies and in the event of an agent dying during a mission.

He answered on the third ring.  “M.”

“This is Q.  Agent status update.  002 is confirmed deceased.  The medical evacuation team are with her now.”

“Shit.” his boss said after a minute.  “What the hell happened?”

“She was ambushed.  They were lying in wait for her.”

“Fucking hell.” there was a long moment of silence before M continued.  “Thank you for letting me know, Q.  I’ll contact the evac team and get an ETA.  What of the memory card?”

“It’s secure, she retrieved it before...um…” he trailed off.

“Ok.  I’ll be down to speak with your team shortly.  Take a break, Q.”

They rang off and Q pulled off his glasses, rubbing his eyes fiercely.  He stayed where he was for a while, his head in his hands.  He wanted to stay there forever but he was needed.  He was the leader of Q-Branch and his team needed him.

After M’s visit, everyone got on with their work, the atmosphere so oppressive that he was glad when the time came for them to go home.  With no active missions, there was no need for the night staff so he was alone and firmly ensconced in his office, going over everything pertaining to 002’s assignment, from the initial mission briefing to the reports they’d received from 002 during the mission.  He knew it was pointless and he knew logically that there had been nothing more he could’ve done but that didn’t stop him from feeling responsible.  He was the Quartermaster, it didn’t matter that R had been the handler; they were all part of _his_ team. 

He sat there for hours, trawling through everything, reading everything again and again until his eyes fell gritty and sore.  He only realised it was morning when he heard voices in the room next door.  Still he stayed, unwilling to face everyone.  He carried on reading the reports, even though he’d practically memorised them by that point.  He heard the door open and noticed the figure entering but didn’t look up; it was probably R or Eve, there to berate him for staying all night.

“Q?”

His head snapped up.  “007, I-I didn’t know you’d got back.”

“Yes.” Bond replied, moving further into his office.  “About an hour ago.  I’ve just finished my debrief.”

Q nodded, tired eyes lingering over the fresh bruise across the agent’s cheekbone, the cut over his left eye, which was held together with steri-strips so at least he’d been to medical, and his slightly damp hair.  “Right.  Did you…”

“M told me.”

He nodded again, dropping his gaze to the paper strewn across his desk.  He didn’t know what else to say.

“Have you been home, Q?”

He scowled.  “Of course I have, I…”

“Liar.  You look awful.”

Q rubbed his forehead tiredly.  “Well thanks for that frank appraisal, 007, a little tailoring of the truth would be appreciated next time.”

Bond smirked.  “You need to go home.”

He sighed and shook his head.  “I can’t.  I’ve got too much to do, there’s the mission report and there’ll be a meeting at some point and Q-Branch need me here and…”

Bond cut across him.  “It can all wait, Q.  I’m driving you home right now.”

“But…”

“But nothing.  R can handle things here.  You need sleep.”

While he wanted to protest, he also wanted to be as far away from the place as possible.  “Ok.  Fine.”

Bond waited while Q shut everything down and quickly organised the mess on his desk before collecting his things and following the agent out into the comms room.  Everyone turned and watched with curious eyes.  Bond ignored them all and strode right over to R, talking briskly. Q was dimly aware of the fact that they were talking about him but he couldn’t bring himself to intervene.  After barely a minute they left, Bond striding down to the carpark with Q trailing after him.  Unlike last time, they went to the carpark filled with agency cars, heading for a black Range Rover.

“Have you eaten?” 007 asked as they left the carpark.

Q shook his head.

“Hm.  Do you have any food at home?” 

He shrugged.  “Not much but it’s fine, I’m not really hungry.”

Bond let out a long suffering sigh but kept quiet.  

They stopped some time later along a road that he was quite sure had double yellow lines.  He decided there and then that should a traffic warden come by, he would not be talking him out of giving them a ticket and he also wouldn’t be deleting it from the government database later on.  It would serve him right for ignoring Q when he’d said that he was not hungry.  Bond got out of the car and disappeared into a Tesco Express, reappearing a few minutes later carrying a plastic bag which he stowed on the back seat before climbing back into the driving seat.    

He was glad when they pulled up in front of his house.  “Thank you for the lift.” he muttered, undoing his seatbelt slowly.

“There’s some shopping in the back, milk, bread, eggs, that sort of thing.”

Q grimaced.  The other man hadn’t said anything about what he’d bought in the shop but Q had guessed all the same.  “Thanks.” he replied flatly as he opened the door and climbed out, dragging his satchel with him.  Standing for a minute, still holding the car door open, he frowned at the blatantly empty house.  Now that he was home he realised that he absolutely did not want to be alone.

“Q?” Bond said from behind him.

Turning back, he gazed at the other man through the dim morning light.  “Would you like to come inside?” he asked before he could change his mind.

Bond’s eyebrows knitted together as he studied Q.  For a moment, he thought the agent was going to refuse but then he turned off the ignition.  “Ok.”

He was acutely aware of Bond’s presence as he walked down his front path.  It felt strange but like the night Bond had driven him home and watched him go inside, it also felt comforting.

Edison was waiting as usual; Q dropped his satchel and pulled off his parka before crouching down to stroke him.

“Who’s that?” Bond asked from behind him.

“Edison.” he replied, smiling as the cat rubbed himself against his knee.  “As in Thomas.”

“I got that thanks.”

Q hummed, straightening up and eying the agent standing in his tiny hallway.  If it’d been strange outside, it was now really off putting, especially when he stripped off his coat and hung it up beside his parka.  Bond himself seemed completely at ease, looking around with interest while Edison sniffed his legs.

“Can I use your loo?” the other man asked suddenly.

“Of course.  It’s right at the top of the stairs.” he paused and took the bag Bond held out to him.  “Be careful though, Sylvia might be up there and she doesn’t like strangers.”

“Sylvia?”

“My other cat.”

Bond smirked.  “As in Plath?”

“Yes.” he grumbled.

“Hm.  I’ll be on my guard.” the older man quipped as he turned towards the narrow staircase.

Q rolled his eyes, watching 007 disappear upstairs before heading through to the kitchen.  He unpacked the bag and shoved everything away; hoping that Bond wouldn’t try to force feed him toast or something. He was just working out what he had to offer the other man to drink when his guest reappeared carrying a very happy looking Sylvia.

“What have you done to my cat?” he huffed, scowling at the traitorous animal.

“Nothing.  I don’t know what you were talking about, she seems perfectly friendly to me.  Maybe she just likes me more than you.”

Q harrumphed.  “I wouldn’t get too cocky 007; she’s a sucker for any handsome tomcat.”

Bond arched an eyebrow.  “Do you think I’m handsome, Q?”

Blushing, he looked down.  This wasn’t exactly news to him; he had eyes in his head after all.  The trouble was that Bond himself was also well aware of his appeal, he used it to charm his way into numerous women’s beds.  “I-I don’t really have much for you to drink I’m afraid, just tea or water really.  There’s orange juice in the fridge but I’m not sure how long that’s been open and…”

“Tea’s fine, Q.” he laughed, stooping down to set Sylvia on the floor.  “And don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone that you think I’m handsome.”

“I never said that.” Q snapped, only just stopping himself from stamping his foot as he turned away to hide the spots of colour on his cheeks.  When he turned back, Bond was rummaging around in his fridge.  “What are you doing?”

“Making breakfast.”

“I told you…” he started blandly.  “…I’m not hungry.”

“Yes but I am.  I was thinking cheese and ham omelettes.”

He huffed, turning back to the cupboards to retrieve two mugs.  “Whatever you like.”

He made tea while 007 bashed around his kitchen, looking surprisingly proficient as he expertly chopped the ham he’d bought.  He looked completely relaxed despite the unfamiliar surroundings but he supposed that was the spy in him, at ease in all situations.

Before too long they were sat at the table, a mug of tea and an omelette each because of course Bond hadn’t listened to him.

The older man demolished his food in record time, while Q just picked at his, cutting the spongy egg into small pieces and separating the slices of ham, pushing them around his plate while drinking his tea, 

He could feel the agent’s icy gaze on him.  “You need to eat, Q.”

“I’m really not hungry.” he murmured, pushing the plate away. 

“You know what happened yesterday wasn’t your fault, don’t you?” Bond said after a few minutes.

Q sighed and pulled off his glasses, dropping them beside his mug, rubbing his eyes tiredly.  “So why does it feels like it was?”

“Because you were on duty but you did everything you could.”

“You can’t know that.” he mumbled into his sleeve.  “You weren’t there.”

“Maybe not but I’ve seen you work, Q.  You always do your best.  You’re always the last person to leave.  You spend hours working on tech to give us field agents our best chance of getting out alive.  But you can’t save everyone. Things will always happen that are out of your control.  It’s the nature of the job.  You knew that when you accepted your position, just like I did.”

“Why do you do it?” he asked quietly, gazing at the blurry shape sat opposite him.

“It’s what I’m good at.”

“Killing people?”

“If you like.  But we both know that’s not all I do.”

He hummed.  “Fine, killing people and having lots of sex with beautiful women.”

“Well, I’m good at that too.” his voice was dripping with arrogance but Q could hear the humour underneath.

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile which crept across his face.  After a long moment of silence, he pushed his glasses back on his face, Bond finally coming back into focus.  “Are you ever scared?”

“Of what?”

“Dying.” he replied bluntly.

007 stared at him steadily.  Q could tell that he was thinking hard.  He wondered if he’d actually get an answer or if he was asking for too much information from the secretive agent.

“No.” Bond said after a long moment.  “What would be the point?  You’re gone.  It’s everyone else who has to deal with the fallout.”

“I listened to her dying and there was nothing I could do.” he croaked, pressing his fingertips to his temples.  “The noise is going round and round in my head.  It won’t go away.”

“Nothing I say is going to help that, I’m afraid.  I’ve seen a lot of people die, most of them my enemies, and you become desensitized after a while.”

“How can you become desensitized to watching people die?” 

“We have to, Q otherwise we’d never get the job done.”

“Well, I hope I never have to.  I don’t want to.  I’d rather feel shit every time I have to sit and listen to someone bleeding out.” he stopped and exhaled gustily.  “I need more tea.  Do you want another cup?”

Bond smiled and pushed himself away from the table.  “I’ll make it.”

“But you don’t know where everything is.” he whined, wincing at how pathetic he sounded.

“Well direct me then…” he paused and arched an eyebrow.  “...you’re good at that.”

Q harrumphed but stayed seated and gave instructions while Bond cleared the plates and made them tea before they both decamped to his small sitting room, Q curling up in his favourite armchair and Bond sitting on his sofa, the television burbling softly in the background.  Once again he realised how surreal the whole situation was.  He wondered what his house looked like to the agent.  He knew it wasn’t the biggest or the most stylish house in the world which was precisely why he liked it.  He liked the mismatched furniture, crowded bookshelves and small kitchen with its scuffed second hand table. 

When he’d accepted the position of Quartermaster, they’d offered him an apartment in a tower block in Vauxhall, barely five minutes from MI6.  He’d gone to see it and found a sterile white box full of glass and stainless steel and he’d hated it, he’d hated the hollowness and the fact that he’d be living right under the nose of the agency.  Instead he’d looked for his own place and about two months after he’d started, he put down a deposit on his small mid-terrace house in East Dulwich.  He had to get two trains in to work but that was better than living in a soulless box which, for all he knew, could be filled with bugging devices.  Not that he didn’t trust MI6; he did even if all of them did spy on people for a living. 

Despite loving his house, he did wonder what Bond thought of it.  The agent was typically hard to read, though he did look perfectly content sitting on his overstuffed sofa with Sylvia sprawled across his lap.

“How long have you lived here?” the older man asked suddenly.

“Um…about six months.” Q replied, resting his mug of tea on his knees.  “Why?  Not up to your usual standards, 007?”

Bond shrugged.  “On contrary, I like it.  It’s cosy besides, I’m living out of a suitcase at the moment.”

“You haven’t found a new flat yet then?”

“Not really had the time.  I may not bother.”

Humming, Q took a sip of his tea before returning the mug to its perch on his knee.  “Hotels aren’t exactly homely though, are they?”

“But I do have someone who comes in and cleans up after me.”

They fell silent again, Bond seemingly engrossed in the news while Q gazed unseeingly at the screen, his eyes starting to get heavy.  He wondered whether he should just let himself fall asleep since he doubted he’d feel that tired when he actually went to bed. 

He was just putting his mug on the coffee table, after almost dozing off and very nearly dropping it for the fourth time, when Bond spoke again.  “You were right about my behaviour yesterday, I was a cock and I’m sorry.”

Q blinked at him owlishly.  It was rare to hear him swear though he said it with so much panache that it seemed natural, like he did it all the time.  Q only just managed to stifle the shudder passed through him at the sound of the curse word rolling off his tongue.  “It’s not really me you should be apologising to, is it?” he paused, settling back in his chair.  “You know when I took the position of Quartermaster, I did so under the proviso that I got to choose my team, every single member.  They are all capable and Katie is one of the best, she is exceptionally good at her job.”

“I’m not disputing that, Q I just…”

“Have trust issues?” Q finished, daring the other man to challenge him.  Bond opened his mouth to say something but Q shook his head.  “Do you trust me, 007?”

“Yes.” the agent replied, far quicker than Q had been expecting.

He was momentarily speechless.  “Right…do you trust my judgement?”

“Q, I jumped on the back of a moving tube train because you told me to.”

Q made a low noise.  “Technically I told you to get on the train, I didn’t specify how.  Anyway, the point is that I trust every single member of my team so trust me when I say that they’re the best, ok, they’re good at their jobs and they can help you, you just have to let them.”

“I’ll try.” he muttered, nodding slowly.

“And you’ll apologise to Katie?”

Bond scowled in response.  “Must I?”

“Yes.”

The blonde sighed heavily.  “Fine.”

They fell silent again, both refocussing on the TV.  The next thing he knew, he was blinking himself awake, his neck aching and legs stiff from being curled under him for so long.  On the TV was an old episode of Homes Under the Hammer and slumped on his sofa was a dead-to-the-world double-oh.  Despite the dull pain in his legs, he stayed put, watching as the man’s chest rose and fell slowly.  His head was tilted right back, resting against the sofa cushions behind him, leaving the long line of his throat completely exposed and vulnerable.  It was proof of the trust he’d declared a couple of hours before. 

People like Bond didn’t trust easily.  That was why working at Six was so difficult; you spent your entire working day around people who didn’t fully trust you or each other.  Sometimes, when he was handling an agent on an assignment, it felt like they were just waiting for him to cock it up entirely, just waiting for him to send them in the wrong direction or for the equipment he’d given them to malfunction.  Quite frankly it was exhausting.  With Bond it had never really been like that, probably because the first time they were on comms, he’d had to rely on Q to be his eyes as he chased Silva.  He knew that Bond’s trust was hard to earn and harder to keep and woe betide you if you ever betrayed it.  Of course, he knew that he would never and could never betray him. 

All of a sudden Bond swallowed, drawing Q’s eyes to the movement of the other man’s Adam’s apple, bobbing up and down as he slept.  It was enthralling, more than it should’ve been really.  It made him wonder.  He wondered what the skin there smelt like and what it tasted like and how it would feel beneath his lips.  He realised abruptly that his thoughts were getting away from him, running wild and unchecked.  Embarrassed, he bit his lip and looked down, willing away the blush that was rapidly spreading across his face and down his neck. 

This was bad.  Very bad.  And he would absolutely have to examine it at a later date, when he wasn’t so exhausted.  He knew he should wake him up and tell him to go but something stopped him, he looked so peaceful and he suspected that a peaceful sleep was rare for him.  At that moment, as if she’d heard what he was thinking, Sylvia lifted her head from Bond’s thigh and glared at him as if to say ‘don’t even think about it!’  He rolled his eyes and stifled a groan as he stood up.  “Don’t worry, Slyvi…” he murmured, stretching his arms above head and cracking his back.  “…I won’t wake him.” she mewled softly in response and lay back down contentedly.  Smiling, he shuffled over to switch off the television and headed upstairs to get some proper sleep.

He slept fitfully, dreams laced with the feeling of warm, spicy skin beneath his lips and large, tanned hands framing his hips and soft groans and biting kisses, waking up an undetermined amount of time later, thoroughly pissed off with himself.  He rolled over and reached out blindly for his glasses, shoving them on his face to peer at his alarm clock, the digital readout informed him that it was just after one o’clock in the afternoon.  Despite his three hour sleep he didn’t feel better at all, in fact he felt worse.  His dreams had unsettled him.  It was his own fault really; he should’ve sent Bond on his way after they’d eaten.  Though to be frank, it could’ve been a lot worse, instead of soft groans; his dreams could’ve been filled with the horrible gurgling sound of 002 dying.  He shuddered and sat up, turning so his feet were planted on his threadbare carpet.  The house was quiet around him, which was only to be expected, Bond had probably left hours ago.  He ran his fingers through his hair, wincing as they got caught in the tangles that littered the nest currently sitting on top of his head.  A shower was definitely needed.  He pushed himself to his feet and shuffled off to the bathroom.

He showered quickly and dried off before returning to his room and pulling on a pair of old jogging bottoms and a huge, slouchy sweatshirt and heading downstairs, stopping dead in the doorway to the kitchen.  He’d been so sure that Bond would’ve gone but instead he was standing in his kitchen, frying bacon.  The jumper he’d been wearing before was gone, leaving him in just a blue-grey shirt and jeans.  The shirt was fitted and just the right side of tight in that it did little to disguise the movement of the agent’s back muscles beneath the thin cotton. 

“Afternoon, Q.” Bond said suddenly.

Q coughed, attempting to clear his suddenly dry throat.  “A-afternoon.  I thought you would’ve left already.”

“Oh?  Should I have?” he turned and eyed him over his shoulder, his lips quirking upwards.

Q looked down.  “Um…no.  B-but you probably have things to do.  I mean, you’re a busy man so…”

“Do you want me to leave, Q?”

He looked up quickly to see that Bond had turned around and was gazing at him steadily.  Q swallowed hard.  His answer probably should’ve been yes, that would’ve been the smart thing to do but the thought of spending the rest of the day and night with only his cats for company was incredibly unappealing.  So he shook his head.  “No.  No.  I just didn’t want you staying on my account if you had other places to be but if you don’t then you’re more than welcome to stay.” he paused and picked up the kettle filling it before setting it down and flipping it on.  “Oh and for the record I am perfectly capable of making myself something to eat, 007.”

The agent smiled.  “Of course you are.  Bacon sandwiches ok?”

He huffed loudly.  “That depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether you’re using the bacon from my fridge that’s been open for at least two weeks.”

He chuckled softly.  “No.  I went out and bought some more.”

“Good.” he muttered, dropping a tea bag into his mug and slumping against the sideboard, his empty stomach grumbling quietly thanks to the delicious smell pervading the kitchen. 

“Sylvia went outside, I hope that’s ok.” Bond said as Q finished making his tea.

He took a sip from his mug, tutting as the steam fogged up his glasses.  “Oh yes.  It’s fine.  She comes and goes as she pleases.  Edison is more of a house cat; he’s far too podgy to fend for himself.”

007 chuckled.  “Thank god, I wasn’t sure if I should stop her or not.”

“She probably would’ve fallen out with you if you had.”

They chatted idly about various things, from how easily Bond found the corner shop to why coffee was the devil’s beverage.

“It’s absolutely vile.” he said, pulling two plates from the cupboard and standing back so Bond to construct the sandwiches.  “I only drink it when I need something stronger than black tea to keep me awake.”

“But you do drink it.”

He hummed as he got the ketchup from the fridge and set it on the table before turning back to take the plate offered to him.  “When I have to, not really by choice.”

They sat opposite each other once again, Bond grimacing as he watched Q remove the top slice of bread from his sandwich, smother the bacon with ketchup and press the bread back down so the sauce squidged out.  “Really, Q?”

“What?  It’s delicious.”

The other man looked unconvinced.

The domesticity of the situation struck him as they ate.  It really was incredibly domestic, frighteningly so.  But strangely he didn’t mind, the slight awkwardness from earlier in the morning had dissipated and Q felt comfortable.  It was nice, in a weird sort of way. 

He only realised that he’d been staring when Bond looked up, one eyebrow raised.  “Something wrong?”

“No.  Nothing.” he said quickly, ducking his head to hide the spots of colour burning on his cheeks.  “I think I’ll head into work when I’ve finished this, I have…”

“No you won’t.” Bond replied immediately.  “You still look exhausted, Q.  Besides, I already called M and…”

“You did what?!”

“I called M because I knew you wouldn’t.  You need rest; you can’t do your job properly if you’re dead on your feet.”

Q huffed loudly.  “You had no right!!  I am a grown man!  I do not need an oaf like you telling me what to do!  I mean, for fuck sake, you can barely take care of yourself!!”

“Oh for Christ’s sake, Q, I’m trying to look out for you!!” Bond snapped. 

His retorted died in his throat as he looked down, avoiding the other man’s icy gaze.

Bond sighed heavily.  “What do you always say to me when I turn up in Q-Branch bleeding right after a mission?”

“I tell you to go to medical.” he muttered flatly.

“Precisely.”

He looked up and narrowed his eyes at the other man.  “So this is your version of telling me to go to medical?”

“If you like.” 007 paused and took a sip of his coffee.  “Look, you and I both know that you’ll be no help to anyone if you work yourself into the ground.  You’re not a robot, Q.  You need to rest.”

He sighed heavily.  “Why do you care so much?”

“You’re my friend…” the older man shrugged.  “…and you have my life in your hands on a regular basis, so I’ll admit my concern isn’t entirely selfless.”

“Of course not.  It’s appreciated nonetheless, though I’d prefer it if you didn’t do it again.”

“I can’t promise that I’m afraid, though if you take care of yourself and actually go home at night I won’t have to.”

He hummed, trying to look annoyed, not that he thought he was particularly successful at that.  Bond had been ridiculously overbearing of course but in a thoughtful kind of way.  There weren’t many people who would railroad him into something like that, Holly would have but she was family so it wasn’t really the same, Eve and R would’ve suggested it and then stood by tutting as he ignored them and eventually burnt himself out.  It’d happened before and it would probably happen again. 

They whiled away the afternoon watching various things on Netflix, Q had made noises about doing a bit of work but Bond had confiscated his laptop.  When they got hungry they ordered curry which he insisted on paying for since the agent had bought the food and cooked for him twice.  Q was grateful of the company, even if his thoughts did run away from him a few times. 

By half past eight he was falling asleep, of course Bond noticed.  “I should go, let you get some sleep.”

He went to reply but instead he let out a huge yawn.  “Sorry.” he muttered, belatedly covering his mouth, his cheeks burning.

The other man smiled.  “It’s ok, Q.  I think I’ve bothered you enough for one day.” he eased Sylvia off his lap and stood up, brushing cat hairs off his jeans.

“You-you haven’t been bothering me.” he said softly, getting to his feet.  “I’ve um…it’s been a good day, you know, considering.” 

 “Considering.” Bond muttered as he strode into the hallway.

Q followed suit, trailing after the other man, hanging back with his arms folded across his chest as Bond pulled on his coat.

“I don’t suppose you’ve seen my scarf, have you?  Blue, cashmere, extremely expensive.” the older man asked, turning to him.

He winced.  “Ah.  I may have sent it down to lost property.” Bond huffed while Q shrugged.  “I was pissed off with you.”

That got a bark of laughter.  “Fair enough.  I needed a new one anyway.”

“No you didn’t.” he retorted, frowning.

Bond just smirked.  “Goodnight Q.” he said as he turned away, moving forwards and opening the front door.

Q followed, standing on his doormat, huddling into his sweatshirt at the chill which rushed in through the open door while the agent stepped out onto the path.  “007?” he called after him, keeping his head up just long enough to see Bond stop and turn before he lowered it to stare at his socked feet.  “Thank you…” he muttered, ignoring the heat that flared up across his cheeks.  “…for driving me home and for making food and for staying.”

“You’re welcome.” Bond said, his voice warm and syrupy.  “Anytime.”

Q’s head snapped up, cheeks flushing even further at the look on the agents face, his smile extended all the way to his eyes which were glistening through the darkness.  He swallowed thickly, his mouth suddenly drier than the Sahara, before shivering involuntarily. 

007 took a couple of backwards steps down the path, his eyes still on Q.  “I’ll see you tomorrow.” he said, before turning and striding off to his car.

Q stood and watched as Bond unlocked the Range Rover and climbed in, the interior light illuminating him as he tugged his seatbelt across his body before starting the engine and pulling away.  He stayed where he was, staring into the dark street until he began to feel the cold permeating his sweatshirt.  Closing the door, he let his head fall forwards with a thunk, resting it against the grey painted wood. 

He was fully aware of just how easily he could get into trouble with the agent; it would be incredibly easy with his flirting and his twinkly blue eyes.  He’d been lying when he told Eve that he felt no attraction for the man, it’d been there, humming in the background since they first met but it hadn’t been a big deal.  Bond was attractive and it didn’t help that flirting seemed to be his default setting.  Not that Q really understood why he was attracted to him, besides the obvious, 007 was infuriating and arrogant and pig-headed, not to mention reckless with a blatant disregard for expensive equipment.  Despite all that, Q found him fascinating which was just ridiculous and dangerous.

Sighing, he turned and shambled off into the kitchen to make himself one last cup of tea before bed.  He knew that the sensible thing to do would be to maintain a professional relationship; the trouble was he didn’t want that, he liked the friendship they were tentatively building.  He decided, as he waited for his tea to steep, that he would just carry on as he was.  He was a grown man and could ignore his crush, because that’s all it was in the end, just a silly crush. 

He slept like the dead that night, thanks to the gratuitous use of sleeping tablets, it probably wasn’t the best idea but he knew that if he tried to sleep naturally he wouldn’t and he did not want to hear 002 wheezing as she bled out in an office block in Moscow, once was enough. 


End file.
